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/ 

GEORGE ELIOT 

SCENES AND PEOPLE IN HER $7<? 

NOVELS 



BY 

CHARLES S. OLCOTT 



ILLUSTRATED FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 



* 



NEW YORK 
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

PUBLISHERS 






COPYRIGHT, 1910, 

By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 
Published September, 1910. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMHRIDGE, U. S. A. 



CI.A27J2 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Warwickshire 1 

Scenes of Clerical Life 9 

Adam Bede 41 

The Mill on the Floss 71 

Silas Marner . . . . 101 

Romola 119 

Felix Holt 153 

Middlemarch 163 

Daniel Deronda 177 

George Eliot and Mr. Lewes 187 

The Womanliness of George Eliot 209 



K" 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

South Farm, George Eliot's Birthplace .... Cover cut x 
Ellastone, Staffordshire Frontispiece 

OPPOSITE PAGE 

George Eliot's Country 6 - 

The Nuneaton Church 12 

"Milly's" Grave 20 

Arbury Hall 24 

Dining-room, Arbury Hall 28 

Church Street, Nuneaton 36 

Elizabeth Evans, George Eliot's Aunt ..... 44 

Robert Evans, George Eliot's Father 52 

Griff House 58 

Wootton Hall, near Ellastone 64 

The Bede Cottage, Ellastone 68 

The Old Mill, Warwickshire, near Griff House . . 76 ' 

The Old Hall, Gainsborough 80 

The " Round Pool " 84 

Mrs. Everard, George Eliot's Aunt 94 

The River Trent 98 

vii 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

OPPOSITE PAGE 

A Typical Warwickshire Cottage 112 

Dante, George Eliot, Savonarola 126 

Wrought-iron Work by Niccolo Caparra .... 142 

The Execution of Savonarola 150 

Rev. Francis Franklin 156 

George Henry Lewes 190 

George Eliot 224 



vni 



WARWICKSHIRE 



GEORGE ELIOT 



WARWICKSHIRE 

WHEN George Eliot, or Mary Ann 
Evans, was a little girl of scarcely 
eight summers, some one lent her 
elder sister a copy of "Waverley," which the 
younger child eagerly seized. The book was 
returned before she had finished it, much to 
her distress, but the little genius began at 
once to write the story from memory, and so 
surprised her parents that they borrowed the 
volume again. "Maggie Tulliver," who was 
an echo of George Eliot's own childish long- 
ings, yearned to have "all Scott's novels," 
and in her loneliness for lack of sympathy 
at home indulged wild dreams of running 
away "to some great man — Walter Scott, 
perhaps" — believing that "he would surely 
do something for her." The little girl who 
cherished such fancies in her secret imagina- 
tion did not realize, nor did the mature 

3 



GEORGE ELIOT 

woman who wrote these lines believe, that 
her name in* future generations would be 
inseparably linked with that of Walter Scott 
and with those of Dickens and Thackeray 
in a group of the four greatest novelists of 
English literature. 

Each wrote of life as it is, and particularly 
of that with which he was the most familiar. 
Dickens's favorite theme was low life in 
the great city of London; Thackeray's, the 
higher social stratum. Sir Walter gave us 
a vivid picture of Scotland such as no one 
else ever attempted, while George Eliot pre- 
ferred the rural life of the Midlands of Eng- 
land. Here she was thoroughly at home. 
The daughter of a prosperous land-agent, 
whose daily life was not above that of the 
plain country-folk who were his neighbors, 
she was, throughout her youth, in daily con- 
tact with farmers and their wives, country 
parsons and dissenting preachers, village 
doctors and rural schoolmasters, while now 
and then her father's business connection 
with several of the wealthiest estates in Eng- 
land gave her an opportunity to visit the 
most aristocratic homes of the vicinity. 

Nor was the natural environment lacking 

4 



WARWICKSHIRE 

in inspiration, for the great oaks and elms 
which lent their shade to the place of her 
birth and to the home of her youth were once 
a part of Shakespeare's Forest of Arden, in 
the northern end of Warwickshire. 

It is interesting to think how much litera- 
ture really owes to this Midland county. In 
its southern extremity, on the banks of the 
beautiful Avon, is the birthplace of Shake- 
speare, visited annually by thousands of 
tourists from all over the world. In the center 
is Warwick, with its great castle, famous in 
English history. Near by is Kenilworth, 
likewise famed in history, but immortalized 
by the pen of Sir Walter Scott. Perhaps one 
third or even one half of the Stratford visi- 
tors wend their way northward to take a 
look at the ivy-grown ruins and pause a 
moment to recall the sad story of Amy Rob- 
sart and the ambitious Earl of Leicester. A 
few miles farther to the north is Coventry, 
with its three spires and its legend of Lady 
Godiva, which Tennyson has put into imper- 
ishable verse. Here George Eliot went to 
school in her thirteenth year and received 
some of the impressions which had a lasting 
effect upon her future work. Here, too, she 

5 



GEORGE ELIOT 

formed associations, nine or ten years later, 
which completely changed the current of 
her life and remodeled her religious and 
philosophical views. Ten miles to the north 
of Coventry is Nuneaton, near which George 
Eliot was born and passed the first twenty- 
one years of her life. Here she began that 
intimate acquaintance with the farmers and 
villagers of rural England which enabled her 
in later years to picture them in colors more 
lifelike than any other novelist has been able 
to accomplish. 

Thus, from one end to the other, Warwick- 
shire is rich in literary associations. It is 
pleasant to reflect, as Mr. Sidney Lanier has 
observed, that only a few miles from South 
Farm, where George Eliot was born, and in 
the same county, is the birthplace of Shake- 
speare, "whose place among male writers 
seems more nearly filled by Marian Evans 
or George Eliot among female writers than 
by any other woman, so that we have the 
greatest English man and the greatest Eng- 
lish woman born, though two centuries and 
a half apart in time, but a few miles apart 
in space." Thus, looking upon life through 
the same environment, George Eliot has 

6 



WARWICKSHIRE 

rendered the same service for rural England 
in the days of Queen Victoria that Shake- 
speare did for the time of Queen Elizabeth — 
painting a never-to-be-forgotten picture of 
life as it really was. 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

GEORGE ELIOT'S career as a novel- 
ist did not begin until she had reached 
the age of thirty-seven and had devoted 
nearly fifteen years of her life to the hard 
and poorly paid labor of writing translations, 
book reviews, and critical essays. They were 
living in small apartments at Number 8 Park- 
shot, Richmond, when Mr. Lewes chanced 
to remark one day, " My dear, I think you 
could write a capital story." Mrs. Lewes 
had previously indulged in vague dreams of 
such a thing, but had never dared to believe 
in her ability to accomplish it. The encour- 
agement of Mr. Lewes proved to be the one 
element needed. 

In the effort to carry out his suggestion, 
and in the midst of many doubts of her own 
dramatic power, George Eliot's mind took 
the simplest and most natural course. She 
felt that she could not invent a story — but 
perhaps she might find one, and she looked 
for it among the recollections of her child- 

11 



GEORGE ELIOT 

hood. Fortunately, it was there. The habit 
of close observation coupled with a marvelous 
memory enabled her to recall with remark- 
able minuteness of detail the exact scenes and 
all the particulars of a tale in which the chief 
characters were intimate friends and neigh- 
bors of her father and mother. Nothing was 
lacking except confidence in her own ability, 
and when this was created by the faith of Mr. 
Lewes, the story which she called " The Sad 
Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton w 
seemingly sprang into being of its own ac- 
cord. The naturalness of its origin suffi- 
ciently explains the charm of this tale, so full 
of sweetness and human sympathy, so vivid 
in its portrayal of real life, so fresh in its 
atmosphere, and so simple in its construction. 

" Amos Barton " was quickly followed by 
"Mr. Gilfil's Love Story" and "Janet's 
Repentance," the three forming the " Scenes 
of Clerical Life." They were all based upon 
personal recollections of events in the lives of 
people who lived in and near the town of 
Nuneaton, in Warwickshire. 

Half a century ago Nuneaton was not, as 
now, a thriving manufacturing town, but a 
straggling village where everybody knew 

12 




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3 

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SCENES OP CLERICAL LIFE 

everybody else and the center of gossip was 
the bar of the village inn. Here everybody's 
private affairs were well ventilated, and if 
there chanced to be a choice bit of news it 
was rehearsed over and over again until every 
frequenter of the place was able to do his 
share in repeating it to his wife, and she in 
turn to her neighbors, without losing the 
smallest detail. 

The year 1857 was a memorable one to this 
social center, for it brought something really 
worth talking about. It did more. It stirred 
up the blood of the inhabitants to fever-heat, 
and furnished enough gossip to set all the 
tongues in the village to wagging for the next 
half-century. The cause of all the excitement 
was the appearance of the " Scenes of Cleri- 
cal Life." Nuneaton promptly recognized 
herself in the village of Milby, and in the 
dramatis personce found a whole trunkful of 
caps to be fitted on the heads of her own 
people. Amos Barton could be no other than 
the Rev. John Gwyther, curate of Chilvers 
Coton Church, called Shepperton Church in 
the story; Mr. Maynard Gilfil was the Rev. 
Bernard Gilpin Ebdell, the slight change of 
name confirming the accuracy of the descrip- 

13 



GEORGE ELIOT 

tion; Janet was a Mrs. Buchanan, whose 
story was well known to them all. Some of 
the old families of Nuneaton still treasure 
well-worn copies of the " Scenes of Clerical 
Life," in which are written lists of characters 
and their real names. One of these lists, made 
by a resident of the town when the book first 
appeared, was given to the writer by his son. 
It corresponds almost identically with an- 
other list 1 furnished quite independently by 

1 The complete list is as follows: 

"THE SAD FORTUNES OF AMOS BARTON" 

Amos Barton Rev. John Gwyther 

Milly Barton Mrs. Emma Gwyther 

Mr. Oldinport (who loaned Amos Barton £20) , 

Rt. Hon. C. N. Newdegate 

Mr. Gilfil Rev. Bernard Gilpin Ebdell 

Mrs. Patten Mrs. Hutchins 

Mr. and Mrs. Hackit Mr. and Mrs. Robert Evans 

Mr. Pilgrim Mr. Bucknill 

Mr. Spratt Mr. Hackett 

Mr. Ely Rev. Mr. King 

Mr. Farquhar Squire Harper 

Mr. Phipps Mr. Craddock 

Mrs. Woodcock Mrs. Craddock 

Mr. Landor Mr. Greenway 

Mr. Brand Mr. Harris 

Rev. Mr. Fellowes Rev. Mr. Bellairs 

Rev. Mr. Duke Rev. Mr. Hoke 

Rev. Mr. Furness Rev. Mr. W. Bucknill 

Rev. Mr. Cleves Rev. Mr. John Fisher 

Rev. Mr. Baird Rev. Mr. Sandford 

Mr. Bridmain Sir John Waldron 

14 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

a descendant of one of the most prominent 
characters. 

The fact that no less than fifty characters 
were thus identified makes the " Scenes of 
Clerical Life " quite unique among works of 
fiction. The first question which occurred to 
the astonished people of Nuneaton was, " Who 

Countess Czerlaski Countess Isabel 

Fitchett Baker (The Verger) 

Places 

Shepperton Chilvers Coton 

Milby Nuneaton 

Whittlecombe Stockingford 

Knebley Astley 

Tripplegate Higham 

Camp Villa The Poplars (The Briars) 



"MR GILFIL'S LOVE STORY 



>> 



Sir Christopher Cheverel Sir Roger Newdigate 

Lady Cheverel Lady Hester Newdigate 

Rev. Maynard Gilfil Rev. Bernard Gilpin Ebdell 

Catarina Sarti Sally Shilton 

Captain Wybrow Charles Parker 

Lady Assher Lady Anstruther 

Mr. Oldinport Francis Newdigate 

Bates, the Gardener Baines, Gardener at Arbury 

Sir Anthony Cheverel Sir Richard Newdegate 

Places 

Cheverel Manor Arbury Hall 

Knebley Abbey . . , 4 Astley Castle 

Knebley Church Astley Church 

The Rookery North Walk 

15 



GEORGE ELIOT 

is this George Eliot? " Evidently " he " must 
have been one of their own number. In fact, 
they argued, he must have been one of those 
who were wont to spend their evenings in the 
bar of the Bull Hotel, the original of the Red 
Lion of Milby, for the first chapter of " Ja- 
net's Repentance " contains a conversation 
held in this room, which many of them re- 
membered almost word for word. It could 
not have been written by anybody except one 
who had heard it. But this made the ques- 

" JANET'S REPENTANCE" 

Mr. Dempster Mr. Buchanan 

Janet Dempster Mrs. Buchanan 

Mr. Tomlinson Mr. Hinks 

Rev. Mr. Crewe Rev. Mr. Hughes 

Mr. Pratt Mr. Bond 

Rev. Mr. Tryan Mr. Jones 

Misses Linnet Misses Hill 

Mrs. Pettifer Mrs. Robinson 

Mr. Pittman Mr. Greenway 

Rev. Mr. Prendergast Hon. and Rev. Mr. Stopford 

Mr. Landor Mr. Craddock 

Mr. Budd Mr. Burton 

Mr. Lowme Mr. Towle 

Mr. Phipps Mr. Bull 

Mr. Jerome Mr. Everhard 

Mrs. Rayner Mrs. Wallington 

Jonathan Lamb Wheway 

Places 

Paddiford ....*... Stockingford 

The Red Lion Bull Hotel 

Orchard Street Church Street 

16 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

tion all the more difficult, for there was no 
man among them who possessed any literary 
ability. There was one, however, who had 
been known to write poetry. It was pretty 
bad, but it constituted him an author, and, as 
he was not known to be good for much else, 
what was first a mere suspicion slowly crys- 
tallized into a fixed public opinion, that this 
man, Liggins by name, was the real George 
Eliot. Liggins quite relished the greatness 
thus thrust upon him, and failed to make a 
prompt denial. Finally he realized that all 
the wiser heads of the community believed 
him to be the author, and therefore, accepting 
their superior judgment as better than his 
own, he too came to believe it and " con- 
fessed." Many prominent persons and influ- 
ential journals also accepted the Liggins 
theory, much to the real author's disgust. A 
deputation of clergymen visited him to invite 
him to write for their magazine, and found 
him " washing his slop-basin at a pump," 
whereupon they were duly " inspired with 
reverence." George Eliot almost believed in 
Liggins herself, because, she said, it is " so 
easy to believe what the world keeps repeat- 
ing." The fiction became so serious that sums 

17 



GEORGE ELIOT 

of money were actually raised for the poor 
but eccentric author who " would take no pay 
for his manuscript/' and the real author was 
compelled to reveal her identity to prevent a 
huge imposition upon the public. 

The conversations which were so cleverly 
reported were probably actually heard by 
Robert Evans, the father of George Eliot, 
who doubtless often visited the Bull in com- 
pany with his neighbors. He repeated them 
to his wife, not realizing that the little daugh- 
ter who listened so attentively was gifted with 
a marvelous memory, nor that she possessed a 
genius that could transform a simple tale into 
a novel of dramatic power. Mary Ann Evans 
had moved to Coventry sixteen years before, 
and was therefore scarcely known in Nunea- 
ton at the time the stories appeared. She 
then had no literary fame, and was no more 
likely to be thought of in this connection than 
any one of a hundred other schoolgirls. 

A mile south of Nuneaton the visitor of 
to-day may see a small stone church with a 
square tower, known as the Chilvers Coton 
Church. A little flight of steps running up 
the outer wall to the schoolchildren's gallery 
identifies it with Shepperton Church. Here 

18 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

George Eliot was baptized, and here was the 
scene of the labors of Amos Barton and of 
Mr. Gilfil. Near by is the pretty little vicar- 
age where Milly Barton lived and fought a 
losing battle with poverty, sickness, and gross 
imposition. In the churchyard under a fine 
old yew-tree is a tombstone commonly known 
as Milly's Grave. This is the inscription : 

Within this Tomb 

Waiting the summons of the archangel's 

trumpet is enclosed all that was mortal of 

EMMA 

the beloved wife of the 

Revd. John Gwyther, B.A. 

Curate of this parish 

who departed this life 

November 4th, 1836 

Aged 34 years. 

" Looking for that blessed hope and glorious 

appearance of the great God and our 

Saviour Jesus Christ." Titus 2 : 13 

SHE 

has left a husband and seven children to 

lament their loss ; but assured of her 

eternal gain, they mourn not as 

those who have no hope; 

faith enables them to anticipate their 

reunion in a state of endless felicity, 

19 



GEORGE ELIOT 

(Reverse) 

The 

various duties of her station, she 

discharged with Christian fidelity; 

mild amiable and affectionate, 

she was beloved by all who knew her ; 

devout and unostentatious in her piety, she 

has left an example worthy of universal 

imitation ; deeply imbued with the spirit of 

the gospel " peace on earth and good will 

toward man," she died in the 

possession of that peace which arises 

only from faith in the finished salvation of 

our God and Saviour Jesus Christ. 

One has only to read this inscription to real- 
ize that no artist ever painted a truer portrait 
than George Eliot when she drew that sweet 
picture of Emma Gwyther, and called her 
Milly Barton. 

Some tender recollections of her mother 
give an added charm to the picture. Mrs. 
Evans was a true friend of Emma Gwyther, 
and her kindness to this lovely but needy 
woman is beautifully recalled by the service 
of Mrs. Hackit in the story, who sent Milly " a 
cheese and a sack of potatoes " now and then, 
relieving her necessities when she could, min- 

20 




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SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

isterlng to her tenderly during her illness, and 
lovingly caring for the motherless children. 
For Mrs. Evans was a woman of tender heart, 
though possessed of a sharp tongue and a 
ready wit. She was a good housewife, and 
managed her dairy with excellent business 
ability. All these characteristics are found 
in Mrs. Hackit, who is thus described with 
captivating humor : 

" Mrs. Hackit declines cream ; she has so long 
abstained from it, with an eye to the weekly butter- 
money, that abstinence, wedded to habit, has begot- 
ten aversion. She is a thin woman, with a chronic 
liver complaint, which would have secured her Mr. 
Pilgrim's entire regard and unreserved good word, 
even if he had not been in awe of her tongue, which 
was as sharp as his own lancet. She has brought 
her knitting — no frivolous fancy knitting, but a 
substantial woolen stocking; the click-click of her 
knitting-needles is the running accompaniment to 
all her conversation, and in her utmost enjoyment 
of spoiling a friend's self-satisfaction she was never 
known to spoil a stocking." 

Mr. Hackit is one of those pleasant, kind- 
hearted old gentlemen whom we always 
delight to meet in novels, as in real life, be- 
cause the contact makes us better. He, like 

21 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Robert Evans, was " a shrewd, substantial 
man, whose advice about crops is always 
worth listening to, and who is too well off 
to want to borrow money." George Eliot 
had a profound respect for her father, and 
could scarcely refrain from dwelling upon 
the characteristics which she so much ad- 
mired in him. In Adam Bede she gave free 
rein to this impulse; in Mr. Tulliver she 
pictured the well-remembered love of her 
father for herself, his favorite child; and in 
Caleb Garth she revealed the honored father 
in later years, when his " uncommon com- 
mon sense," sterling honesty, and sound 
judgment had won the respect and esteem 
of landed gentry and farmer-folk for miles 
around. 

The tombstone of Robert Evans and his 
wife is in the churchyard of Chilvers Coton, 
and to find it one has only to ask any vil- 
lager to point out the grave of Adam Bede. 

Returning to Nuneaton, we may pass the 
workhouse, " a huge square stone building, 
euphuistically called the College." Here 
Amos Barton attempted to bring his geo- 
graphical, chronological, and exegetical mind 
to the level of Old Maxum, who was ninety- 

22 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

five and stone deaf, Silly Jim, who " rolled 
his head from side to side and gazed at the 
point of his nose," and Mrs. Brick, whose 
only sensitive point was snuff. It is a curi- 
ous fact that even one of the paupers, Mr. 
Fitchett, found an " original " in real life in 
an old verger named Baker. 

The " Oldinport Arms," where Mr. Hackit 
presided at the annual dinner of the * As- 
sociation for the Prosecution of Felons," 
stands in the market-place of Nuneaton. Its 
real name is the " Newdegate Arms." The 
obvious change of " new " to " old " and of 
" gate " to its equivalent " port " suggests 
that the author intended the name to be 
recognized. Similar changes are numerous 
throughout the earlier novels. From the 
windows of this hotel in 1832 Colonel New- 
degate read the Riot Act to an election mob 
whose turbulent spirit could not be subdued 
by a detachment of the Scots Greys, and the 
gallant colonel was wounded in the tumult, 
which did not subside until the following day. 
George Eliot, then a girl of thirteen, wit- 
nessed this stirring scene, and thirty-three 
years later wrote a vivid description of it in 
" Felix Holt." 

23 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Mr. Oldinport, who loaned Amos Barton 
twenty pounds, was the Right Honorable 
Charles N. Newdegate, a distinguished Mem- 
ber of Parliament for many years. His 
predecessor, with whom Mr. Gilfil quar- 
reled, was Mr. Francis Newdigate, the 
great-grandfather of the present owner of 
Arbury Hall. He was also " the old squire " 
of " Adam Bede." 

Arbury Park, lying some three miles to 
the southwest of Nuneaton, is a place of 
rare beauty. It is an inclosure of perhaps 
three hundred acres, and a part of the Ar- 
bury Estate which extends over something 
like ten thousand acres of rich mining and 
agricultural land. The present owner is 
Mr. Francis Alexander Newdigate Newde- 
gate, who is a great-grandson of Francis 
Newdigate, the employer of Robert Evans, 
and the original of Mr. Oldinport in " Mr. 
Gilfil's Love Story." It was Francis New- 
digate, the grandfather of the present Mr. 
Newdegate, who introduced Robert Evans 
to his father and urged his employment. 
Mr. Newdegate was a member of Parlia- 
ment for fourteen years and is highly; 
esteemed. 

24 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

The Newdegates first came into possession 
of Arbury in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
when John Newdegate obtained the estate 
from Sir Edmund Anderson in exchange for 
the manor of Harefield, where the Newde- 
gate family had lived since the reign of 
Edward III. Harefield is now one of the 
estates of the present Mr. Newdegate, who 
is also the owner of Astley Castle and 
Weston-in-Arden in Warwickshire and of 
[West Hallam in Derbyshire. 

The charming old Gothic manor, with its 
romantic surroundings, its beautifully kept 
lawns, its fine old trees, its sparkling pool, 
the gardens, the drawing-room, the dining- 
room, the library, the long gallery upstairs, 
the housekeeper's room, the ancestral paint- 
ings, and even the old harpsichord, are to- 
day almost exactly as they are described in 
"Mr. GilfiTs Love Story": 

" And a charming picture Cheverel Manor would 
have made that evening, if some English Watteau 
had been there to paint it: the castellated house 
of gray-tinted stone, with the flickering sunbeams 
sending dashes of golden light across the many- 
shaped panes in the mullioned windows, and a great 
beech leaning athwart one of the flanking towers, 

25 



GEORGE ELIOT 

and breaking with its dark flattened boughs the too 
formal symmetry of the front; the broad gravel 
walk winding on the right, by a row of tall pines, 
alongside the pool, on the left branching out among 
swelling grassy mounds, surmounted by clumps of 
trees, where the red trunk of the Scotch fir glows 
in the descending sunlight against the bright green 
of limes and acacias ; the great pool, where a pair 
of swans are swimming lazily with one leg tucked 
under a wing, and where the open water-lilies lie 
calmly accepting the kisses of the fluttering light- 
sparkles ; the lawn, with its smooth emerald green- 
ness, sloping down to the rougher and browner 
herbage of the park, from which it is invisibly 
fenced by a little stream that winds away from the 
pool, and disappears under a wooden bridge in the 
distant pleasure-ground," etc., etc. 

The interior is minutely described in the 
following passages: 

" Any one entering that dining-room for the 
first time would perhaps have had his attention 
even more strongly arrested by the room itself, 
which was so bare of furniture that it impressed 
one with its architectural beauty like a cathedral. 
A piece of matting stretched from door to door, 
a bit of worn carpet under the dining-table, and a 
sideboard in a deep recess, did not detain the eye 

26 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

for a moment from the lofty groined ceiling, with 
its richly carved pendants, all of creamy white, 
relieved here and there by touches of gold. On one 
side, this lofty ceiling was supported by pillars 
and arches, beyond which a lower ceiling, a minia- 
ture copy of the higher one, covered the square 
projection which, with its three large pointed win- 
dows, formed the central feature of the building. 
The room looked less like a place to dine in than a 
piece of space enclosed simply for the sake of 
beautiful outline; and the small dining-table, with 
the party round it, seemed an odd and insignificant 
accident, rather than anything connected with the 
original purpose of the apartment. . . . 

" The library lay but three steps from the dining- 
room, on the other side of a cloistered and matted 
passage. The oriel window was overshadowed by 
the great beech, and this, with the flat heavily 
carved ceiling and the dark hue of the old books 
that lined the walls, made the room look somber, 
especially on entering it from the dining-room, with 
its aerial curves and cream-colored fretwork touched 
with gold. . . . 

" The party entered the drawing-room, which, 
with its oriel window, corresponded to the library 
in the other wing, and had also a flat ceiling heavy 
with carving and blazonry; but the window being 
unshaded, and the walls hung with full-length por- 
traits of knights and dames in scarlet, white, and 

27 



GEORGE ELIOT 

gold, it had not the somber effect of the library. 
Here hung the portrait of Sir Anthony Cheverel, 
who in the reign of Charles II was the renovator 
of the family splendor, which had suffered some 
declension from the early brilliancy of that Che- 
vreuil who came over with the Conqueror. A very 
imposing personage was this Sir Anthony, stand- 
ing with one arm akimbo, and one fine leg and foot 
advanced, evidently with a view to the gratification 
of his contemporaries and posterity. You might 
have taken off his splendid peruke, and his scarlet 
cloak, which was thrown backward from his shoul- 
ders, without annihilating the dignity of his ap- 
pearance. And he had known how to choose a wife, 
too, for his lady, hanging opposite to him, with 
her sunny brown hair drawn away in bands from 
her mild grave face, and falling in two large rich 
curls on her snowy, gently sloping neck, which 
shamed the harsher hue and outline of her white 
satin robe, was a fit mother of ' large-acred * 
heirs. . . • 

" She [Catarina] had made her way along the 
cloistered passages, now lighted here and there by 
a small oil-lamp, to the grand-staircase, which led 
directly to a gallery running along the whole east- 
ern side of the building, where it was her habit 
to walk when she wished to be alone. The bright 
moonlight was streaming through the windows, 
throwing into strange light and shadow the hetero- 

28 




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SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

geneous obj ects that lined the long walls : Greek 
statues and busts of Roman emperors ; low cabi- 
nets filled with curiosities, natural and antiquarian ; 
tropical birds and huge horns of beasts ; Hindoo 
gods and strange shells ; swords and daggers, and 
bits of chain-armor; Roman lamps and tiny models 
of Greek temples ; and, above all these, queer old 
family portraits — of little boys and girls, once 
the hope of the Cheverels, with close-shaven heads 
imprisoned in stiff ruffs — of faded, pink-faced 
ladies, with rudimentary features and highly de- 
veloped head-dresses — of gallant gentlemen, with 
high hips, high shoulders, and red pointed beards. 
Here, on rainy days, Sir Christopher and his 
lady took their promenade, and here billiards were 
played." 

In the saloon two striking portraits are 
hung side by side on the wall opposite the 
door. The fine old gentleman is Sir Roger 
Newdigate, the original of Sir Christopher 
Cheverel, a man of generous disposition and 
kindly nature, the reminiscences of whose 
real life correspond with the agreeable im- 
pression of his character left by the story. 
Unfortunately, his good wife, whose por- 
trait hangs by his side, does not fare so well 
at the hands of the novelist, for Lady New- 
digate was a woman of far lovelier character 

29 



GEORGE ELIOT 

than might be inferred from the somewhat 
unsatisfactory description of Lady Cheverel. 
The author never really knew her, and did 
not obtain sufficient information to paint her 
portrait as accurately as she seems to have 
done that of Sir Roger, whose strong char- 
acteristics were well known. 

Sir Roger Newdigate was born on the 30th 
of May, 1719, and died, in his eighty-eighth 
year, on November 25, 1806. He was the 
owner of one of the finest estates of coal in 
Great Britain, and a Member of Parliament 
for many years. He was a liberal benefactor 
to the poor of his neighborhood, and a great 
friend of Oxford University, to which he 
made many munificent gifts. Like another 
" grand old man " of England, he was well 
versed in Homer and all the best of the 
classics. 

" A lover of virtu and an excellent classic from 
his early days, he made it his business in both his 
tours on the Continent to sketch ancient ruins, 
buildings, statues, and landscapes, chiefly such as 
are not to be found in books of antiquities and 
travels ; and two ample folios, the produce of his 
indefatigable and accurate pencil, enrich the library 
at Arbury. He also brought home some curious 
antique marbles and vases of exquisite workmanship 

30 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

(some of them engraved in 4 Piranesi,' where his 
name several times occurs), casts from the most 
admired statues at Rome and Florence, and copies 
of many celebrated paintings, particularly a fine 
one of the famous ' Transfiguration ' of Raphael 
which adorns the saloon at Arbury, a room of 
admirable proportions and beauty, with a bow 
window and ceiling in the richest style of Gothic 
architecture, finished a few years before his death. 
He new cast and rebuilt the whole house on the 
site of an ancient priory, in the Gothic style, in 
which he modestly professed himself an humble 
imitator, but the models which he studied were of 
prime excellence, the Divinity School at Oxford, 
Henry VIFs Chapel and King's College Chapel in 
Cambridge. In accomplishing one part of his 
plans for the enlargement of the hall, he used to 
say, pleasantly, he * did as impudent a thing as 
ever was attempted,' cutting through the massy 
wall of the original house built by Sir Edmund 
Anderson, to form three ample Gothic arches, and 
introduce a gallery, or side aisle, which has a 
striking effect in one of the noblest dining-rooms 
in the Kingdom. The library and drawing-room, 
both with arched ceilings, are also justly admired. 
The ceiling of the library is decorated with paint- 
ings, copied from the batRs of Livia." * 

1 From a Memoir by the Rev. R. Churton, privately printed in 
1881 from the "Gentlemen's Magazine" of 1807. 

31 



GEORGE ELIOT 

The real Lady Cheverel was Sir Roger's 
second wife, Hester Margaretta Mundy, 
whom he married in 1776. She was very 
fond of music, and took lessons in London 
of an Italian music-master named Motta, 
the original of " Sarti." One day, while 
driving over the estate in her carriage, the 
attention of Lady Newdigate was attracted 
by a little girl, the daughter of a collier, 
sweetly singing as she sat upon the door- 
step of her father's cottage. The child, 
whose name was Sally Shilton, was taken to 
the Arbury home, and Signor Motta was 
engaged to give her lessons. She developed 
so much musical talent that Sir Roger and 
Lady Newdigate, who were both much at- 
tached to her, had high hopes of a great 
professional career. She was soon promoted 
from the housekeeper's room to the drawing- 
room, and became a much-loved member of 
the family. Her health, however, proved too 
delicate for a professional career, and this idea 
was eventually given up, although the young 
girl was in much demand for private mu- 
sicales, and at one time assisted in a grand 
party at Packington, the seat of the Earl 
of Aylesford. 

32 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

When George Eliot wrote " Mr. GilfiTs 
Love Story/' she found a charming heroine 
in little Sally Shilton, whom she only faintly 
disguised as an Italian and the daughter of 
Sarti. But there is no evidence that the love 
affairs of Catarina and the Captain ever had 
a counterpart in Sally's history. Mr. Charles 
Parker, the presumptive heir of Sir Roger, 
was the original of Captain Wybrow of the 
story, and Miss Anstruther was a conven- 
ient model for Miss Assher. But it is hardly 
likely that Sally Shilton was ever in love 
with Charles Parker, for she was only eleven 
years old at the time of his marriage to Miss 
Anstruther. 

She had a lover, however, in the curate of 
Shepperton Church and the chaplain of the 
family. His name was Bernard Gilpin Eb- 
dell. George Eliot altered the name but 
slightly, Bernard Gilpin being easily trans- 
formed into Maynard Gilfil. Sally married 
the young clergyman, and moved into the 
pretty vicarage, which later became the home 
of another of the author's heroines, Milly 
Barton. She did not die as told in the story, 
in which Mr. Gilfil only " tasted a few 
months of perfect happiness," but made 

33 



GEORGE ELIOT 

him an excellent wife for twenty-two years. 
The jealousy of Catarina and the tragic 
death of Captain Wybrow are, of course, 
pure fiction. 

Mr. Gilfil " had a large heap of short ser- 
mons, rather yellow and worn at the edges, 
from which he took two every Sunday, secur- 
ing perfect impartiality in the selection by 
taking them as they came, without reference 
to topics; and having preached one of these 
sermons at Shepperton in the morning, he 
mounted his horse and rode hastily with the 
other in his pocket to Knebley, where he 
officiated in a wonderful little church, with 
a checkered pavement which had once rung 
to the iron tread of military monks, with 
coats of arms in clusters on the lofty roof, 
marble warriors and their wives without 
noses occupying a large proportion of the 
area, and the twelve apostles, with their 
heads very much on one side, holding didac- 
tic ribbons, painted in fresco on the walls." 

Astley Church, near the Arbury estate, is 
the original of Knebley Church. It is still 
in the same condition as described. It is 
interesting to note, however, that the " twelve 
apostles with didactic ribbons " are not apos- 

34 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

ties at all, but saints. There are eighteen 
in all — nine New Testament saints with 
halos and nine Old Testament saints without. 

George Eliot was born on this beautiful 
estate of Arbury, within a few hundred yards 
of the old Manor House. When his daugh- 
ter was only four months old, Mr. Evans 
moved to Griff House, not far away. Mr. 
Evans, as agent of the estate, frequently 
visited the Manor House on business, and 
no doubt his daughter often accompanied 
him. In the housekeeper's room, which may 
still be seen with its motto 1 over the fire- 
place, she doubtless heard over and over 
again all the history and legends connected 
with the place, and through the favor of the 
housekeeper was permitted to see all the 
rooms of this fine old house. Upon a young 
girl of her sensibilities such a charmingly 
romantic place must have made a deep 
impression. 

After Mr. Lewes had finally succeeded in 
persuading her that she might be able to 
write fiction, nothing could be more natu- 

1 The motto, as quoted by George Eliot, is, "Fear God and 
honour the King." It really reads: "Truste * in ' God * and * 
Feare • Him • with • al ' thy * Harte." She wrote from memory, 
not having seen the place for many years. 

35 



GEORGE ELIOT 

ral than that her thoughts should revert to 
this place, where the story would almost 
seem to write itself. The only wonder is 
that " Mr, Gilfil's Love Story " did not ap- 
pear first, instead of " Amos Barton," for 
the setting of the former is far more en- 
chanting, although the story itself does not 
contain so true an account of what really 
happened. 

The Bull Hotel in Nuneaton, just around 
the corner from the Newdegate Arms, played 
an important part in " Janet's Repentance " 
as the " Red Lion " of Milby. Here, in the 
bar-room, Lawyer Dempster insisted that 
the Presbyterians were a sect founded by 
"John Presbyter," forcing poor Mr. Byles, 
who dared to dispute him, to beat an igno- 
minious retreat. Here the conspiracy against 
the Rev. Mr. Tryan was hatched, and from 
the front window Mr. Dempster harangued 
the crowd in the interests of " True Reli- 
gion," going home a little drunker than 
usual to give his beautiful wife a terrific 
beating. Dempster's house in Orchard Street 
(Church Street) may still be seen, and a few 
doors below is the arched passage through 
which poor Janet fled for refuge to Mrs. 

36 




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SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

Pettifer's on the night when her brutal hus- 
band thrust her into the street in her night- 
dress. This incident really happened. The 
persecution of Mr. Tryan is also a matter 
of local history. When George Eliot was 
a girl at school in Nuneaton, a dissenting 
minister obtained permission from the Bishop 
to deliver a Sunday evening lecture in the 
Nuneaton Church. This was violently re- 
sented, and a mob, headed by a drunken 
lawyer, unsuccessfully tried to drive him out 
of town. The novelist gives a vivid descrip- 
tion of the scene when the defenders of the 
integrity of the Established Church, com- 
posed of that class of citizens which is al- 
ways ready to espouse any cause promising 
plenty of rum and the chance to break a few 
heads, surrounded the brave preacher and his 
sturdy friends, jeering and hooting as they 
marched boldly up Orchard Street to Milby 
Church. The scurrilous hand-bill, remark- 
able only for its venom and not for its wit, 
actually existed. It is doubtless, as the au- 
thor says, " a faithful copy " of the original. 
Eighteen months after the night of the 
evening lecture, another little procession 
wended its way slowly through the same 

37 



GEORGE ELIOT 

street and in the same direction. Edgar 
Try an was again the sole object of thought, 
but the thoughts were loving and tender and 
were spoken in whispers, if at all. ' His 
coffin was borne by twelve of his humble 
hearers, who relieved each other by turns. 
But he was followed by a long procession of 
mourning friends, women as well as men.'' 
It was the sincerity, the gentleness, the un- 
selfishness, and the loving sympathy of Edgar 
Tryan that had conquered in the end. Janet 
Dempster, at first a bitter opponent, found 
her whole life transformed by his influence. 
She came to know what it meant to be sus- 
tained by faith in a Divine love. The author 
closes with the remark, after referring to the 
minister's grave in Milby Churchyard: " But 
there is another memorial of Edgar Tryan, 
which bears a fuller record; it is Janet Demp- 
ster, rescued from self -despair, strengthened 
with divine hopes, and now looking back on 
years of purity and helpful labor. The man 
who has left such a memorial behind him 
must have been one whose heart beat with 
true compassion and whose lips were moved 
by fervent faith." Thus George Eliot, 
though unwilling to allow such comfort to 

38 



SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE 

her own heart, recognized the power of faith 
in others and rejoiced in their possession 
of it. 

The church to which Mr. Tryan made these 
two journeys, one in life and the other in 
death, is a large and handsome structure at 
the head of Church Street. The oldest in- 
habitants still recall the " Honorable and 
Reverend Mr. Stopford," who fulfilled the 
duties of rector by coming once a year, when 
he preached one sermon and dropped a guinea 
in the plate. He was the original Mr. Pren- 
dergast. The vicarage near by was the home 
of Janet's dear friend, the curate's wife, Mrs. 
Crewe. In the story of " Amos Barton " it 
was the scene of the " Clerical Meeting," 
where all the clergymen of the neighboring 
country assembled to discuss the Epistle of 
Jude, and incidentally to dine quite comfort- 
ably while dissecting poor Mr. Barton. 

Across the street the visitor may, if he 
choose, visit George Eliot's school, an ivy- 
covered building, where Mary Ann Evans 
was sent in her eighth or ninth year. A 
quaint little book-rack, with labels in her own 
handwriting, may still be seen, as the only 
remaining relic of her presence. 

39 



ADAM BEDE 



ADAM BEDE 

GEORGE ELIOT has herself told us 
the origin of " Adam Bede." In 
1839 her aunt, Elizabeth Evans, was 
a visitor at Griff House. While there she 
related one of her early experiences which 
made a lasting impression upon the mind 
of the future novelist. An ignorant girl, 
named Mary Voce, was accused of poisoning 
her young child. She was tried, convicted, 
and sentenced to be hanged. The case 
aroused the sympathy of the Methodists of 
Nottingham, where the trial was held, and 
two of them obtained permission to visit the 
condemned girl in her prison cell. One of 
them was Elizabeth Evans. They remained 
all night praying and seeking to comfort the 
poor woman, who at last confessed her guilt. 
Mrs. Evans rode with her in the cart to the 
gallows where the execution took place. This 
anecdote became the germ of " Adam Bede." 
It is woven into the career of Hetty Sorrel, 

43 



GEORGE ELIOT 

who, however, finally escaped the gallows/ 
There is nothing else in common between 
the history of Mary Voce and the story of 
Hetty Sorrel. /rThe real value of the anec- 
dote to literature lay in the fact that it 
immortalized the loving service to mankind 
in the life of Elizabeth Evans, by trans- 
fusing her character into that of Dinah 
Morris. 

The husband of Elizabeth Evans was 
Samuel, the brother of Robert, and he, like 
Seth Bede, was a devout Methodist. In the 
story Seth is anxious to marry Dinah, but 
is refused, Adam being the man of her choice. 
In real life " Seth " was more fortunate, and 
for nearly half a century, with hearts united 
in strong spiritual as well as temporal bonds, 
this devoted pair went about doing good. 
There exists to-day in Wirksworth (the 
Snowfield of the novel) a " Bede Memorial 
Chapel," " erected to the glory of God, and 
in memory of Elizabeth Evans, immortal- . 
ized as Dinah Morris," and in the Wes- 
leyan Memorial Chapel, in the same town, 
a marble tablet commemorates the life-work 
of Seth Bede and Dinah Morris in these 
words : 

44 




Elizabeth Evans, George Eliot's Aunt 
Her character suggested " Dinah Morris." 



ADAM BEDE 

" Erected by Numerous Friends 

to the Memory of 

Elizabeth Evans 

Known to the World as ' Dinah Bede 9 

Who during many years proclaimed alike in the 

open-air, the sanctuary and from house to house, 

the love of Christ. 

She died in the Lord, Nov. 9, 1849 

Aged 74 years. 

And of Samuel Evans, her husband, 

who was also a faithful local preacher 

and class leader in the 

Methodist Society. 

He finished his earthly course 

December 8, 1858, aged 81 years." 

Miss L. Bulkley, whose father was closely 
associated w T ith Samuel Evans in religious 
work, and who was herself well acquainted 
with the family of Mrs. Evans for many 
years, has pointed out the fact that in her 
dress, her manner, and the scenes of her 
labor Elizabeth Evans was exactly like 
Dinah. Many of her forms of expression 
were the same. Most remarkable of all was 
the musical sweetness of her voice, which 
seemed to exert a kind of magnetic attraction. 

In the description of the preaching on the 

45 



GEORGE ELIOT 

village green, George Eliot says : " The trav- 
eler had been chained to the spot against his 
will by the charm of Dinah's mellow treble 
tones, which had a variety of modulations 
like that of a fine instrument touched with 
the unconscious skill of musical instinct. . . . 
The effect of her speech was produced en- 
tirely by the inflections of her voice." " No 
words," says Miss Bulkley, " could better 
describe the wonderful influence of Mrs. 
Evans' voice. Wherever she was people 
seemed compelled to listen, sometimes against 
their will. In support of this statement I 
will relate a circumstance which occurred at 
the time of Mrs. Evans' death in 1849. It 
was told me by an eyewitness, and I give 
it in her own words : * I was in the habit of 
visiting Mrs. Evans almost every day dur- 
ing the latter years of her life, and I have 
sat for hours listening as she related her ex- 
perience. The day after her death I was in 
the house when two strangers came to the 
door and asked if Mrs. Evans lived there, 
and upon hearing the news of her death ex- 
pressed great sorrow. They said that many 
years ago she was preaching in the village 
where they lived, as young men, and they 

46 



ADAM BEDE 

went to the place for the purpose of making 
fun and persecuting her, even contemplating 
throwing stones at the woman preacher. 
They hid themselves behind a hedge, close 
to where Mrs. Evans was standing, and 
waited for her to begin. The moment she 
commenced speaking their attention was 
arrested; they did not know at first what 
she was saying, but felt compelled to listen; 
her voice seemed to fascinate them; it was 
like nothing they had ever heard before. 
They listened throughout the prayer and 
sermon and went home forgetting all about 
the purpose that had taken them to the spot. 
Soon after this they became local preachers, 
and they had searched almost throughout 
England to find the woman to whom they 
owed so much, thinking how pleased she 
would be to hear that her efforts had been 
so successful. They had only found her 
when it was too late, for she had died a few 
hours before their arrival/ " 

Such complete recognition proves that 
there were portraits in " Adam Bede," after 
all, in spite of the author's denial. She 
painted them unconsciously and far better 
than she knew. She says, " Dinah is not at 

47 



GEORGE ELIOT 

all like my aunt," and this is perhaps true 
as to her physical attributes. Elizabeth 
Evans was sixty- four years old when she 
first came to Griff House. Dinah Morris 
was a young woman of twenty-five. There 
was no possibility, as well as no necessity, of 
knowing precisely how her aunt looked when 
forty years younger, but the sweet disposi- 
tion, the unselfishness of her loving nature, 
and the depth of her spiritual life were 
what fascinated George Eliot. These quali- 
ties went so thoroughly into the character of 
Dinah Morris that the portrait is complete 
without mere physical resemblances, which 
would have been superfluous had they ex- 
isted. George Eliot has told us that she 
was very fond of this aunt, adding, " She 
was loving and kind to me, and I could talk 
to her about my inward life, which was 
closely shut up from those usually round 
me." The first of these confidential talks 
seems to have taken place while on a visit 
to Wirksworth with her father. At that 
time Mary Ann Evans was about seventeen. 
To quote her own words, she was " strongly 
under the influence of evangelical belief and 
earnestly endeavoring to shape this anoma- 

48 



ADAM BEDE 

lous English-Christian life of ours into some 
consistency with the spirit and simple verbal 
tenor of the New Testament." It was the 
remembrance of Elizabeth Evans and of 
her spiritual influence as well as her inspir- 
ing conversation that helped George Eliot, 
years afterward, to compose that wonderful 
sermon of Dinah Morris, preached on the 
village green of Hayslope. No other inter- 
pretation is possible. There is no evidence 
that the sermon was copied nor that the ser- 
mons of Elizabeth Evans were even pre- 
served. A book published soon after the 
appearance of the novel, containing some 
startling statements of this kind, brought 
forth a vigorous protest from the author, 
who declared emphatically that she never saw 
any of her aunt's writing, and that Dinah's 
words came from her " as tears come because 
our heart is full and we can't help them." 
" How curious it seems to me," she wrote 
to Miss Hennell, " that people should think 
Dinah's sermon, prayers, and speeches were 
copied, when they were written with hot tears 
as they surged up in my own mind." 

From this, as well as many other pas- 
sages, it is evident that George Eliot, though 

49 



GEORGE ELIOT 

troubled with many intellectual doubts, never- 
theless in the inmost recesses of her heart 
felt a profound sympathy for the teach- 
ings of the Christian religion, and sincere 
respect and even admiration for those who, 
without hypocrisy, were included among its 
devout believers. 

When George Eliot was a girl she loved 
to drive about the country with her father. 
And no doubt he found her a most interest- 
ing companion, to whom he could point out 
the scenes of his early life and find an atten- 
tive listener./ There are many evidences that 
the trips were enjoyed by both, and none 
more so than those through Staffordshire and 
Derbyshire, where Robert Ejans passed the 
years of his early manhood. /Such drives laid 
the foundation for " Adam Bede " by fur- 
nishing all of the scenery, many of the char- 
acters, and some of the incidents of the storjj/ 

George Eliot not only loved her father 
dearly but had a most intense admiration for 
his manly character and sturdy self-reliance. 
It was natural that in building up the mate- 
rial for a novel from the scenes of her father's 
early life, she should put into its principal 
character all of those sterling qualities which 

50 



ADAM BEDE 

she so much admired in him. ^Vnd so Robert 
Evans became Adam Bede so naturally that 
of all George Eliot's characters, he alone 
stands out as a real man and at the same time 
an ideal of true worth and genuine morality 

Her mother died in 1836, when she was 
only sixteen, and from that time until her 
father's death in 1849 she was his devoted 
companion. Every reference to him in her 
letters shows her high esteem of his personal 
character and respect for his achievements. 
He began life as a village carpenter, not only 
building houses and barns, but manufacturing 
furniture and even coffins for the neighboring 
farmers. When Mr. Francis Newdigate, 
who made him the agent of his estate, inher- 
ited the larger and finer estate of Arbury, 
Robert Evans went with him, settling at 
South Farm, where his distinguished daugh- 
ter was born. He acquired a wide reputation 
as a man of business who could be trusted im- 
plicitly, not only for his ability but for his 
integrity and moral worth. 

He was a man of extraordinary physical 
strength, and Mr. Cross mentions an incident 
confirming this. " He happened to pass one 
day whilst a couple of laborers were waiting 

51 



GEORGE ELIOT 

for a third to help move the high heavy ladder 
used for thatching ricks, braced himself up 
to a great effort, and carried the ladder alone 
and unaided from one rick to the other, to 
the wide-eyed wonder and admiration of his 
men." Compare this with the picture of 
Adam Bede: "Look at Adam ... as he 
stands on the scaffolding with the two-feet 
ruler in his hand, whistling low while he con- 
siders how a difficulty about a floor- joist or 
a window frame is to be overcome; or as he 
pushes one of the younger workmen aside 
and takes his place in upheaving a weight 
of timber, saying, ' Let alone, lad! thee 'st got 
too much gristle i' thy bones yet.' " 

The guiding motive of Robert Evans's life 
must have been expressed in the hymn which 
we hear in the strong baritone of Adam Bede 
as we are introduced to that hero: 

" Let all thy converse be sincere, 
Thy conscience as the noonday clear; 
For God's all-seeing eye surveys 
Thy secret thoughts, thy works and ways." 

It is safe to say that in all literature there is 
not a more attractive picture of an honest 
working man than that of Adam Bede. He 

52 



ADAM BEDE 

is strong and determined, brave, self-reliant, 
and vigorous, but kind, gentle, and patient. 
It is easy to see that Adam Bede grown old 
would make a Caleb Garth, and that one plus 
the other would equal Robert Evans. No 
man could have been more active in protect- 
ing the interests of his employers, and yet 
the tenants when in trouble found him kind 
and patient, and he commanded their affection 
as well as admiration. A critic has said that, 
with the exception of Adam Bede and Felix 
Holt, George Eliot " nowhere presents to us 
a young man fitted in every way to command 
our esteem." Whether this be true or not, it 
is certain that Adam Bede stands out like 
a statue of heroic proportions when placed 
by the side of those other young men, like 
Arthur Donnithorne, Stephen Guest, the Cass 
brothers, Tito, Fred Vincy, and Grandcourt, 
all of whom serve a purpose in the stories, 
but none commands our respect or admira- 
tion. Even Daniel Deronda, in whom no 
fault can be found, fails to evoke the enthu- 
siastic applause with which Adam Bede is 
called before the curtain. The reason is that 
here the author is painting a portrait of one 
whom she loved and revered, and all the 

53 



GEORGE ELIOT 

great force of her matchless genius is ex- 
pended as she puts her own heart upon the 
canvas. 

The third portrait in this remarkable 
book, where none was intended, is that of the 
worthy Mrs. Poyser, whose practical common 
sense, revealed in a succession of lightning 
flashes of pithy aphorisms and quick repartee, 
gives her a place by the side of Sam Weller 
among the most delightfully humorous char- 
acters of our literature. A whole page 
could not have described the conceited Mr. 
Craig so well as her remark in confidence to 
her husband, " You 're mighty fond of Mr. 
Craig, but, for my part, he 's welly like a 
cock as thinks the sun 's rose o' purpose to 
hear him crow." When the old squire calls 
to suggest a new arrangement of the lease, 
concealing his real purpose under veil of a 
pretense to benefit the occupants of Hall 
Farm, Mrs. Poyser instantly sees through 
his design and forthwith " has her say out," 
until the squire flees in dismay before her 
fury. Her parting shot is a perfect gem in 
its way: 

" You may run away from my words, sir, and 
you may go spinnin' underhand ways o' doing us 

54 



ADAM BEDE 

a mischief, for you 've got Old Harry to your 
friend, though nobody else is, but I tell you for 
once as we 're not dumb creatures to be abused and 
made money on by them as ha' got the lash i' their 
hands, for want o' knowing how t' undo the tackle. 
An' if I 'm th' only one as speaks my mind, there 's 
plenty o' the same way o' thinking i' this parish 
and the next to it, for your name 's no better 
than a brimstone match in everybody's nose — • if it 
isna two-three old folks as you think o' saving your 
soul by giving 'em a bit o' flannel and a drop o' 
porridge. An' you may be right i' thinking it '11 
take but little to save your soul, for it '11 be the 
smallest savin' y' iver made, wi' all your scrapin'." 

In argument of any kind she was a dan- 
gerous antagonist. Bartle Massey makes a 
disparaging remark about the women: 

"'Ay, ay!' said Mrs. Poyser; ' one 'ud think, 
an' hear some folks talk, as the men war 'cute 
enough to count the corns in a bag o' wheat wi' 
only smelling at it. They can see through a barn- 
door, they can. Perhaps that 's the reason they 
can see so little o' this side on 't.' . . . 

" * Ah ! ' said Bartle, sneeringly, ' the women are 
quick enough — they 're quick enough. They know 
the rights of a story before they hear it, and can 
tell a man what his thoughts are before he knows 
'em himself.' 

55 



GEORGE ELIOT 

u ' Like enough/ said Mrs. Poyser ; c for the men 
are mostly so slow, their thoughts overrun 'em, an 5 
they can only catch 'em by the tail. I can count 
a stocking-top while a man 's gettin 's tongue ready ; 
an' when he outs wi' his speech at last, there 's 
little broth to be made on 't. It 's your dead chicks 
take the longest hatchin'. Howiver, I 'm not deny- 
in' the women are foolish: God Almighty made 'em 
to match the men.' 

" ' Match ! ' said Bartle ; ' ay, as vinegar matches 
one's teeth. If a man says a word, his wife '11 
match it with a contradiction ; if he 's a mind for 
hot meat, his wife '11 match it with cold bacon ; if 
he laughs, she '11 match him with a whimpering. 
She 's such a match as the horse-fly is to th' horse : 
she 's got the right venom to sting him with — the 
right venom to sting him with.' 

" ' Yes,' said Mrs. Poyser, ' I know what the 
men like — a poor soft, as 'ud simper at 'em like 
the pictur' o' the sun, whether they did right or 
wrong, an' say thank you for a kick, an' pretend 
she didna know which end she stood uppermost, 
till her husband told her. That 's what a man 
wants in a wife, mostly ; he wants to make sure 
o' one fool as 'ull tell him he 's wise. But there 's 
some men can do wi'out that — they think so much 
o' themselves a'ready ; an' that 's how it is there 's 
old bachelors.' " 



56 



ADAM BEDE 

Tf Mrs. Poyser had a sharp tongue, there 
was a kind heart back of it: 

" ' She ? s a downright good-natured woman/ said 
Adam, 6 and as true as the daylight. She ? s a bit 
cross wi' the dogs when they offer to come in th' 
house, but if they depended on her, she 'd take care 
and have 'em well fed. If her tongue 's keen, her 
heart 9 s tender : I Ve seen that in times o' trouble. 
She 's one o* those women as are better than their 
word. 5 " 

Mrs. Poyser is an original character, the 
woman of that name who lived in Ellastone 
bearing no relation to the story. But some 
of the most interesting characteristics of 
George Eliot's Mrs. Poyser were those of her 
own mother. She is the wittiest of all the 
author's characters, as Adam Bede is the 
noblest and Dinah Morris the saintliest. She 
believed in " having her say out," declaring 
" there 's no pleasure i' living, if you 're to 
be corked up forever, and rtnly dribble your 
mind out by the sly, like a leaky barrel." 
Her lively sayings, uttering the keenest truths 
in the homeliest phrases and permeated with 
a most delightful humor, have been an im- 
portant factor in the very great popularity 
of this novel. 

57 



GEORGE ELIOT 

We are told by Mr. Cross that Mrs. Evans, 
George Eliot's mother, was a " woman with 
an unusual amount of natural force — a 
shrewd, practical person, with a considerable 
dash of the Mrs. Poyser vein in her." She 
was a capable manager, a successful dairy- 
woman, and a devoted wife and mother. 
Doubtless she was gifted with a clever tongue, 
and from her, we can readily believe, the 
daughter inherited that keen wit and quick 
sense of humor which have given a sparkling 
brilliancy to all her work. There were no 
family traditions through which the sayings 
of Mrs. Evans were handed down to a sub- 
sequent generation, and all the humor is there- 
fore original. 

Hall Farm, the home of Martin Poyser and 
his wife, has been the subject of many mis- 
leading statements. Many pictures of it have 
been published, scarcely two alike. There is 
no house in the neighborhood of Ellastone, 
the real scene of the novel, which in any 
degree fits the description. The gardener's 
house at Wootton Hall has been named, but 
its present appearance gives no evidence of 
any just claim to the title. A recent writer, 
who has made an exhaustive study of the sub- 

58 



ADAM BEDE 

ject, is confident that the real " original " is 
none other than Griff House, near Nuneaton ; 
but that well-kept house, occupied by her 
father, who was always in comfortable cir- 
cumstances, could have had little in common 
with the dilapidated old house of the story, 
with rusty gates which would not open and 
with a front door which, like the gate, was 
never opened and would groan and grate 
against the stone floor if it were. There is 
but one ground for the identification of Griff 
House with the original Hall Farm, and that 
is the fact that it was the home where the 
novelist became familiar with the actual work 
of a dairy. The many incidents connected 
with the making of butter and cheese, which 
was the daily occupation of the Poyser family, 
could hardly have been described by any one 
who was not familiar with the subject from 
personal experience. Robert Evans w^as a 
farmer as well as a land agent, and his wife, 
like most farmers' wives, performed her share 
in the domestic economy through the manu- 
facture of butter and cheese. This writer 
goes so far as to claim that George Eliot her- 
self was a dairywoman, and that she once 
explained that the reason her right hand was 

59 



GEORGE ELIOT 

larger than her left was because of her worK 
in the dairy. 1 This story, however interesting 
it may be, is open to considerable doubt, for 
we have it on the authority of her brother 
that she never did any of the work of the 
dairy. It is also misleading for tourists of 
the present day to visit the dairy now attached 
to Griff House and think of it, as has been 
suggested by the author above quoted, as the 
place where George Eliot learned the art of 
butter-making. This building was put up 
long after George Eliot left the place, and 
as she seldom visited her old home, was prob- 
ably scarcely known Jto her. 

The Rev. Frederic R. Evans, son of Isaac 
Evans, now living in Bedworth, disposes of 
these fictions in a recent letter as follows: 

" The photograph of ' Mrs. Poyser's dairy ' is 
a photograph of a building put up in my boyhood. 
The original dairy had long been turned into a 
sitting-room and was used by my father as his 
study. It is, moreover, a mere figment of the im- 
agination that George Eliot acted as dairy maid, 
and that cheese-making was the cause of one hand 

1 The same story appears in Mathilde Blind's "George Eliot,'* 
published in 1883. 

60 



ADAM BEDE 

being larger than another. My father always said 
she could not be induced to touch a cheese. It 
seems a pity to perpetuate these inaccuracies. . . . 
My grandmother, who is supposed to have sat for 
Mrs. Poyser, was spoken of by my father always 
as the gentlest of women, which description would 
hardly fit Mrs. Poyser." 

The most persistent claimant for the honor 
of being the real Hall Farm is a house situ- 
ated some two or three miles from Nuneaton, 
in Warwickshire, now known as Corley Hall. 
In the description of Hall Farm there is a 
reference to the " square stone-built pillars 
surmounted by stone lionesses, which guarded 
the rusty gate." At the entrance to Corley 
Hall may be seen to-day two such stone pil- 
lars surmounted by peculiar-looking beasts, 
which the author might have remembered in 
later years as lionesses, but which are really 
griffins. It is a typical old farm-house, and 
a photograph of it would well illustrate in 
a general way the author's conception. More- 
over, it contains a typical dairy adjoining 
the kitchen, where one can readily imagine 
Hetty Sorrel at work and Arthur Donni- 
thorne slipping out from the kitchen at the 
earliest opportunity for their first tete-a-tete. 

61 



GEORGE ELIOT 

At one side of the house is a garden, and be- 
yond it an arbor beautifully shaded by over- 
arching trees, making an ideal spot for just 
such a meeting as that of Hetty Sorrel and 
Adam Bede. One is inclined to think, after 
seeing this place, that if any house were the 
true model this must have been the one. The 
author had only to take it up from its War- 
wickshire environs and transplant it a few 
miles to the north near the village of Hay- 
slope — an undertaking which to her imagi- 
nation was quite simple. The fact is that 
the real Hall Farm has no exact prototype, 
but of those buildings which have claimed this 
distinction, whatever may have been the facts 
in the case, Corley Hall, in spite of some dis- 
crepancies, is the most satisfying to the gen- 
eral reader. 

In the second chapter of " Adam Bede " a 
traveler on his way to Rosseter is seen to stop 
at the door of the Donnithorne Arms in the 
little village of Hayslope and ask a few ques- 
tions of the rotund landlord, who for some 
minutes has been watching the crowd upon 
the village green and wondering whether he 
could mingle with them without compromis- 
ing his dignity. The visitor to the country 

62 



ADAM BEDE 

of " Adam Bede " may readily begin his in- 
quiries at the same spot, for the Donnithorne 
Arms still exists, though the present proprie- 
tor is not rotund and makes no pretensions 
to dignity incompatible with his regular oc- 
cupation as the village butcher. The old 
weather-beaten sign leaves the traveler in 
ignorance as to the present name of the inn, 
which is known, however, as the Bromley- 
Davenport Arms. It stands at the entrance 
to the village of Ellastone, in Staffordshire, 
which still numbers not more than two hun- 
dred souls. The oldest inhabitant does not 
recall that it ever looked materially different 
from its present appearance, although the 
village green, where Dinah Morris preached, 
is no longer a green, but is occupied by 
two or three small houses, among them the 
butcher-shop of the landlord of to-day. 

" The green lay at the extremity of the 
village, and from it the road branched off in 
two directions — one leading farther up the 
hill by the church, and the other winding 
gently down toward the valley." This is an 
exact description of the fork in the road just 
beyond the Bromley-Davenport Arms, and 
is of itself sufficient to fix upon the village 

63 



GEORGE ELIOT 

of Ellastone as the correct prototype of 
Hayslope. 

Following the first of these roads, the trav- 
eler of to-day passes a neatly kept cottage, 
now the residence of a village physician, but 
commonly known as the Bede Cottage. Here 
Robert Evans lived when he first came to 
Staffordshire, and one room in the present 
house was once a workshop and another a 
paint-shop. These two rooms, together with 
the old part of the house in the rear, may 
have been in the author's mind in describing 
the home of the Bedes, although its geograph- 
ical location does not in any way fit the story. 

A winding road to the northwest leads to 
Wootton Hall, a large and very beautiful 
estate not far from the village. A little 
over a hundred years ago it was occupied by 
Mr. Francis Newdigate. The son of this 
gentleman introduced Robert Evans to " the 
old squire " and induced the latter to make 
him his bailiff. This was the beginning of 
the successful career of Robert Evans, who 
afterward became the agent, not only of the 
Newdigates, but also of many other great 
proprietors, among them Lord Aylesford of 
Packington, Lord Lifford, and Mr. Bromley- 

64 








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Davenport, This fact corresponds closely 
with the story, where young Arthur Donni- 
thorne finally prevails upon the old squire to 
give Adam Bede the management of his 
lands. This beautiful estate is without doubt 
the original of Donnithorne Chase. The 
loquacious landlord, speaking of it to the 
traveler, says, " Fine hoaks there, is n't there, 
sir? " The visitor of to-day would be imme- 
diately impressed with the beauty of the oaks 
to be found in this spacious park. The house 
itself as it exists to-day corresponds very 
closely with the description in the novel: 
" The house would have been nothing but a 
plain square mansion of Queen Anne's time 
but for the remnant of an old abbey to which 
it was united at one end in much the same 
way as one may sometimes see a new farm- 
house high and prim at the end of older and 
lower farm offices." 

Returning through the village and driving 
a mile toward the east, the visitor crosses a 
little bridge over the River Dove into the vil- 
lage of Norbury. The Dove divides the 
counties of Derby and Stafford. The former 
is Stonyshire in the novel, and the latter is 
Loamshire. Some twenty or thirty miles up 

65 



GEORGE ELIOT 

the river toward the north is a picturesque 
locality known as Dovedale, where there is 
a well-known inn much frequented by fisher- 
men, and once the favorite resort of Izaak 
Walton and his boon companions. This is 
the locality to which Arthur Donnithorne 
proposed to go for a few days' fishing. Hetty 
asks Adam, " i Have you ever been to Eagle- 
dale?' 'Yes/ said Adam; 'ten years ago, 
when I was a lad, I went with father to see 
about some work there. It 's a wonderful 
sight — rocks and caves such as you never 
saw in your life. I never had a right notion 
o' rocks till I went there.' " Further along 
in the conversation Adam suggests that the 
Captain will not stay long, for it 's a lonely 
place, and " there 's nothing but a bit of a 
inn i' that part where he 's gone to fish." 

The church at Norbury was attended regu- 
larly by Robert Evans, and here, like Adam 
Bede, he sang in the village choir. In the 
churchyard are the graves of his father, 
George Evans, and of his mother, Mary. The 
burial of Thias Bede is described, and no 
doubt the author obtained the facts from her 
father. It is too much to assert, however, 
that George Evans was the original of Thias 

66 



ADAM BEDE 

Bede or that his wife was Lisbeth Bede. We 
know little of Thias in the story except that 
he was a drunkard and was found dead in 
the brook near the cottage door. There is a 
brook running through the field in the rear 
of the Bede Cottage where Robert Evans 
lived ; but his father never lived in this house, 
and George Evans was not drowned and was 
not a drunkard; in fact, he is said to have 
been a teetotaler. The incident, however, 
was taken from real life ; an uncle of George 
Eliot met the death of Thias Bede, having 
been drowned in a few inches of water while 
intoxicated. As will be seen from the inscrip- 
tion on his tombstone, George Evans died 
many years after the death of his wife, while 
in the story Lisbeth survived Thias several 
years. Beyond the fact that they were the 
parents of Robert Evans, there is little, if 
anything, to suggest that this couple were 
in any way the originals of Thias and Lisbeth 
Bede. 

Norbury appears in the novel as Norburne ; 
and Rosseter, toward which the horseman 
before mentioned was traveling, is the town 
of Rocester. Oakbourne, where Adam went 
in search of Hetty, is the market town of 

67 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Ashbourne. Broxton, where Parson Irwine 
lived, is the straggling hamlet of Boston, a 
short distance up the hill from Norbury. 
Here the author's father, Robert Evans, was 
born in a little cottage on the left side of the 
road, to which a small workshop is attached. 
It may readily be found by the tourist of to- 
day if he will ask any one in the neighborhood 
to show him the birthplace of Adam Bede. 

Between this house and the village of Nor- 
bury is a little brick cottage where Robert 
Evans went to school. It was kept by Bartle 
Massey, whose name appears in the n6vel 
without change. The school of to-day is in 
a smaller adjoining building, but in Robert 
Evans's time the cottage itself was the school- 
house. The quaint and eccentric but kindly 
schoolmaster kept night school in those days, 
and no doubt George Eliot heard from her 
own father some of the descriptions which 
enabled her to write that charming account 
of a country night school which appears in 
"Adam Bede": 

" ' Nay, Bill, nay,' Bartle was saying in a kind 
tone, as he nodded to Adam, ' begin that again, and 
then, perhaps it '11 come to you what d-r-y spells. 
It 's the same lesson you read last week, you know.' 

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'Bill 5 was a sturdy fellow, aged four-and-twenty, 
an excellent stone-sawyer, who could get as good 
wages as any man in the trade of his years; but 
he found a reading lesson in words of one syllable 
a harder matter to deal with than the hardest stone 
he had ever had to saw. The letters, he complained, 
were so 4 uncommon alike, there was no tellin' 'em 
one from another.' " 

Next to Bill was a Methodist brickmaker 
who, after spending thirty years of his life 
in perfect satisfaction with his ignorance, had 
lately " got religion and along with it the 
desire to read the Bible," and next to him was 
another man nearly as old. 

" It was touching to see these three big men, 
with the marks of their hard labor about them, 
anxiously bending over the worn books and pain- 
fully making out 4 The grass is green,' c The sticks 
are dry,' 4 The corn is ripe,' a very hard lesson 
to pass to after columns of single words all alike 
except in the first letter. It was almost as if three 
rough animals were making humble efforts to learn 
how they might become human, and it touched the 
tenderest fiber in Bartle Massey's nature, for such 
full-grown children as these were the only pupils 
for whom he had no severe epithets and no im- 
patient tones." 

69 



GEORGE ELIOT 

The visitor to the country of "Adam 
Bede " can scarcely escape the conviction that 
the story is, after all, a work of history. 
Bartle Massey, Maskery, Poyser, etc., are 
real names. So many real places are accu- 
rately described, and so many geographical 
names only faintly disguised, that the whole 
country seems strangely familiar. So much 
of evident truth is mingled with the fiction 
that one feels like believing it all. But we 
must discriminate. The preaching of Dinah 
Morris, the carpentry of Adam Bede, the 
butter-making of Mrs. Poyser, and the school 
teaching of Bartle Massey were all true, and 
the scenes of their activity real. The novelist, 
with rare genius, wove about these lives and 
scenes a story, purely fictitious in plot but 
never inconsistent with the truth. Portraits 
and scenes were painted with loving fidelity, 
which the requirements of fiction were not 
permitted to disturb. In the last analysis this 
will be found to be one of the principal charms 
of " Adam Bede." 



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THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

THREE miles south of Nuneaton, at 
the turn of the road which leads to 
Arbury Park, is Griff House, the 
home of George Eliot in the days of her child- 
hood and youth. It is a fine old red brick 
farm-house, thickly covered with ivy, and al- 
most hidden by a wide-spreading yew of 
splendid proportions. The lawn is well set off 
by a background of trees of many varieties, 
and in the rear are farm buildings and a spa- 
cious garden. For a perfect picture of those 
scenes and the impressions which they made 
upon her peculiarly sensitive nature we must 
turn to the pages of " The Mill on the Floss." 
It is one of the principal charms of George 
Eliot's earlier novels that she wrote of life 
as she saw it. The " Scenes of Clerical Life " 
are thought by many to be the most attractive 
of all her writings. The stories are simple 
and entertaining, and there is a freshness of 
atmosphere that is quite delightful. Nearly 
every character is in a sense real, and the 
setting is the neighborhood of her girlhood. 

73 



GEORGE ELIOT 

In "Adam Bede," taking the home of her 
father's youth as the background, she ideal- 
ized and at the same time immortalized her 
father, her mother, and her aunt. After the 
publication of " The Mill on the Floss " one 
great charm disappeared from her work, for 
this is the last of the novels in which the mem- 
ories of early life are a vital factor. But 
although it is the last of its class, it excels all 
the others in its strong personal attractive- 
ness. Hitherto she has dealt with her neigh- 
bors and with her family. Now she gives us 
a glimpse of herself. 

The scene is the village of St. Oggs on the 
River Floss. For the fijjst time the novelist 
leaves the surroundings which early memories 
have impressed upon her mind, and journeys, 
note-book in hand, to a distant town, where 
she may find a new setting for her story. But 
in those passages which we value most the old 
haunts of her childhood reappear. It is neces- 
sary to find a tidal river for the tragedy in 
which the story culminates. The River Trent, 
flowing into the Humber, answers the pur- 
pose, and the town of Gainsborough, in Lin- 
colnshire, has the right location. But the old 
mill of her childhood, the little round pool, the 

74 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

hollow along the canal, and the attic in her 
home at Griff must be transplanted thither, 
for without these Maggie would be unreal 
and impossible. 

We are introduced to the village of St. 
Oggs and to " the broadening Floss " rush- 
ing to meet the tides of the sea, without pre- 
vious ceremony: 

" On this mighty tide the black ships — laden 
with the fresh-scented fir-planks, with rounded sacks 
of oil-bearing seed, or with the dark glitter of coal 
— are borne along to the town of St. Oggs, which 
shows its aged, fluted red roofs and the broad 
gables of its wharves between the low wooded hill 
and the river brink, tingeing the water with a soft 
purple hue under the transient glance of this 
February sun." 

The visitor to Gainsborough, having just 
read this opening paragraph of the novel, 
may stroll a few hundred yards from the inn 
toward the river, when, lo! the picture is 
spread before him in all its colors, with start- 
ling reality. The black ships, the fluted red 
roofs, and the wharves are all there. He in- 
stinctively looks about for the author, and 
wonders if the book were not really written 

75 



t 



GEORGE ELIOT 

yesterday instead of half a century ago. But 
then, recalling the title, he looks for Dorlcote 
Mill. The "little river" with its " dark 
changing wavelets " ; the " large dipping wil- 
lows"; the "stone bridge"; the "trimly 
kept, comfortable dwelling-house as old as 
the elms and chestnuts "; the " huge covered 
wagon coming home with sacks of grain . . . 
the strong, submissive, meek-eyed beasts now 
stretching their shoulders up the slope toward 
the bridge, now on it, and now away again at 
a swifter pace, disappearing at the turning 
behind the trees " — where are they? Not at 
St. Oggs. Ah, no! The author has fallen 
asleep in her armchair, and in reverie has gone 
back to the scenes of her childhood, to the 
little red mill near Arbury, where she was 
born. There the visitor may see, if he will, 
another picture made real. The stone bridge, 
the dwelling-house, the little river, the wil- 
lows, the elms, and the chestnuts — all are 
there. This is the real " Mill on the Floss " 
which the author brought in imagination from 
far-away Warwickshire to the banks of the 
River Trent. 

If our visitor drive through the town of 
Gainsborough, a mile or two north of the 

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THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

place where he caught his first glimpse of the 
wharves and black ships, he may see a large 
brick building on the right bank of the river, 
with a conspicuous sign, " The Mill on the 
Floss." The owner is certain that it is the 
very mill that George Eliot describes. It was 
once a grist-mill, and two arches, now walled 
up, show where the mill-race formerly ran. 
It is now operated under the distinguished 
title of " The Floss Steam Laundry." The 
owner was not disposed to be communicative 
when the writer first approached in search 
of information. But when he learned that 
George Eliot was to be the subject of con- 
versation he suddenly realized that, for once 
at least, he had found a listener who would be 
really interested in the tales that were dear 
to his heart. Without once taking his eyes 
from the washing-machines in the room, and 
leading his visitor from one to another, he 
talked volubly of what he knew (or thought 
he knew) about George Eliot. " There was 
once an old man here — he is dead now — who 
used to tell me that he remembered a long 
time ago seein' a lady sit right over there 
around the bend of the river," nodding his 
head in that direction. " She used to come 

77 



GEORGE ELIOT 

down and sit there every day, and she was 
always scribblin'. He watched her every day, 
and she always sat in the same place, a scrib- 
blin' and a scribblin'. He used to wonder 
what she was doin', and after a while got so 
curious to know that he went up to the house 
over there" — another jerk of the head — 
" to find out who that queer woman was. And 
sure enough " — this was said very impres- 
sively — " sure enough, it was Mrs. George 
Eliot!" 

The house indicated by the old man is Mor- 
ton Hall, where George Eliot stayed when 
she went to Gainsborough. It is a comfort- 
able-looking house with a beautiful garden 
extending to the river. A small knoll in the 
garden is known as " George Eliot's Mound," 
because here was her favorite seat. It is not 
impossible that this charming location may 
have suggested the description of the home 
of Aunt Glegg. 

" When I bought this property," continued 
the old laundryman, " I looked up the title, 
and do you know I found some strange 
things. The mill used to belong to an old 
fellow named Pagden, John Pagden, and it 
passed from him to the bank. They fore- 

78 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

closed a mortgage on it, and he lost this prop- 
erty and his house over there — you '11 see it 
just across the road from Morton Hall. He 
was always gettin' into lawsuits, and that 's 
the way he lost his money — just like Mr. 
Tulliver in the book. Do you see that road 
runnin' from there to there? " and for a mo- 
ment he left his machines to point through 
the open door; "well, Pagden had trouble 
about the right of way of that very road — 
just like Mr. Tulliver, you know, in the 
book." There was more gossip of the same 
sort. The old man was only repeating what 
had been the talk of the neighborhood for fifty 
years. George Eliot could see the old mill 
from the garden of Morton Hall, and the 
house which Pagden built was just across the 
road; no doubt, therefore, she knew well the 
misfortunes of the poor man and used them 
in the story of Mr. Tulliver. 

If the old red mill near Griff House with its 
cottage and farm buildings could be substi- 
tuted for the big laundry on the banks of the 
Trent, one might be able to picture the real 
" Mill on the Floss " and to see the home of 
the Tullivers as the novelist saw it. 

The visitor to Gainsborough will always 

79 



GEORGE ELIOT 

stop to take a look at the old hall, the strik- 
ingly characteristic central feature of the ven- 
erable old town, which " carried the traces of 
its long growth and history like a millennial 
tree " from the time when " the long-haired 
sea-kings came up the river and looked with 
fierce eager eyes at the fatness of the land." 
" It was the Normans who began to build that 
fine old hall. ... It is all so old that we look 
with loving pardon at its inconsistencies, and 
are well content that they who built the stone 
oriel, and they who built the Gothic fa$ade 
and towers of finest small brickwork with the 
trefoil ornament, and the windows and battle- 
ments defined with stone, did not sacrile- 
giously pull down the ancient half-timbered 
body with its oak-roofed banqueting-hall." 
It w x as once a manor-house of great preten- 
sions, the home of some of the earliest of Eng- 
lish barons. Among its guests have been 
Richard III, Henry VIII, and Charles I. 
It became a play-house for some time, and it 
is also said that John Wesley used it for his 
preaching services. 

The old hall is now an auction-room, and 
the interior is very much altered. It is a pity 
one cannot see it as it was when Maggie 

80 




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THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

reached the culmination of her career as " an 
admired member of society " on the day of the 
bazaar. The " broad faded stripes painted 
on the walls " and the " heraldic animals of 
a bristly, long-snouted character " have dis- 
appeared forever, together with the " great 
arch over the orchestra " near which Maggie 
sat, causing the gentlemen's dressing-gowns 
in her stall to assume an unexpected impor- 
tance as " objects of general attention and in- 
quiry," exciting much troublesome " curiosity 
as to their lining and comparative merits, to- 
gether with a determination to test them by 
trying on." 

In that delightful chapter where " Aunt 
Glegg learns the breadth of Bob's thumb," 
and the shrewd packman gives a lesson in 
practical salesmanship which would make suc- 
cessful imitators wealthy, a certain individ- 
ual named Salt, " the shupercargo o' the bit 
of a vessel," must be consulted, and is finally 
located at the " Anchor Tavern," a place 
which may still be seen in one of the quaint 
old streets of Gainsborough. The owner dis- 
penses his ale and beer in peaceful ignorance 
of the fact that his place is advertised through- 
out the world in one of the greatest of Eng- 

81 



GEORGE ELIOT 

* 

lish novels. Unlike the Red Horse at Strat- 
ford and the Cheshire Cheese in London, he 
has not yet learned to turn a profit from its 
literary fame. 
yHMaggie Tulliver, the central figure in 

^" The Mill on the Floss/' is the most interest- 
ing of all George Eliot's heroines, and one of 
the most attractive in all literature. That the 
novelist intended to weave some of her own 
experiences and emotions into the character 
of Maggie there can be no doubt/" There are 
many proofs of this, but the best is her auto- 
biographical sonnet, " Brother and Sister." 

«/lsaac Evans, the brother of Mary Ann, was 
three years her senior. The elder sister, Chris- 
tiana, was fully five years older, a gap which 
in childhood might be sufficient to prevent a 
close companionship, even if there were no 
serious differences of temperament. But 
such differences really did exist and the re- 
sult was that Mary Ann's playmate was her 
brother Isaac, who, being masculine, did not 
fail to assert his superiority 

" He was the elder, and a little man 

Of forty inches, bound to show no dread, 
And I the girl that puppy-like now ran, 

Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread. 

82 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

" I held him wise, and when he talked to me 

Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the 
best, 
I thought his knowledge marked the boundary 
Where men grew blind, though angels knew the 
rest. 

" If he said ' Hush ! ' I tried to hold my breath. 
Wherever he said ' Come ! ' I stepped in faith." 

This was the portrait of Isaac and Mary Ann. 
Turn now to Tom and Maggie: 

" ' Maggie,' said Tom, confidentially . . . 6 you 
don't know what I 've got in my pocket,' nodding 
his head up and down as a means of rousing her 
sense of mystery. 

" ' No,' said Maggie. ' How stodgy they look, 
Tom. Is it marls (marbles) or cobnuts?' Mag- 
gie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said 
it was ' no good ' playing with her at those games 
— she played so badly. 

" * Marls ! no ; I 've swopped all my marls with 
the little fellows, and cobnuts are no fun, you silly, 
only when the nuts are green. But see here ! ' He 
drew something half out of his right-hand pocket. 

"'What is it?' said Maggie, in a whisper. 'I 
can see nothing but a bit of yellow.' 

" * Why, it 's — a — new — guess, Maggie ! ' 

83 



GEORGE ELIOT 

" 6 Oh, I can't guess, Tom,' said Maggie, impa- 
tiently. 

" ' Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you,' said 
Tom, thrusting his hand back into his pocket and 
looking determined. 

" ' No, Tom,' said Maggie, imploringly, laying 
hold of the arm that was held stiffly in the pocket. 
4 I 'm not cross, Tom ; it was only because I can't 
bear guessing. Please be good to me.' 

" Tom's arm slowly relaxed and he said, ' Well, 
then, it 's a new fish-line — two new uns — one for 
you, Maggie, all to yourself. I would n't go halves, 
in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save 
the money; and Gibson and Spouncer fought with 
me because I would n't.' . . • 

" ' Oh dear ! I wish they would n't fight at your 
school, Tom. Did n't it hurt you ? ' 

" ' Hurt me? No. ... I gave Spouncer a black 
eye, I know — that 's what he got by wanting to 
leather me ; I was n't going to go halves because 
anybody leathered me.' 

" 6 Oh, how brave you are, Tom ! I think you 're 
like Samson. If there came a lion roaring at me, 
I think you'd fight him — wouldn't you, Tom?' 

" ' How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly 
thing? There's no lions only in the shows.'" 



The opportunity to use the fish-line soon 
came, and Tom and Maggie were on their 
way to the Round Pool. 

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THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

" Maggie thought it probable that the small fish 
would come to her hook and the large ones to 
Tom's. But she had forgotten all about the fish, 
and was looking dreamily at the glassy water, when 
Tom said in a loud whisper, ' Look, look, Maggie ! ' 
and came running to prevent her snatching her line 
away. Maggie was frightened lest she had been 
doing something wrong, as usual, but presently 
Tom drew out her line and brought out a large 
tench bouncing on the grass. Tom was excited. 
' Oh ? Magsie, you little duck ! Empty the basket.' 
Maggie was not conscious of unusual merit, but 
it was enough that Tom called her Magsie and was 
pleased with her. . . . She never knew she had a 
bite till Tom told her; but she liked fishing very 
much." 

Here is the story as told of Isaac and her- 
self in "Brother and Sister": 

u One day my brother left me in high charge, 
To mind the rod, while he went seeking bait, 
And bade me, when I saw a nearing barge, 

Snatch out the line, lest he should come too late. 

j Proud of the task, I watched with all my might 
For one whole minute, till my eyes grew wide, 
Till sky and earth took on a strange, new light 
And seemed a dream-world floating on some 
tide — 

£ M 7 









GEORGE ELIOT 

" A fair pavilioned boat for me alone, 
Bearing me onward through the vast unknown. 

u But sudden came the barge's pitch-black prow, 
Nearer and angrier came my brother's cry, 
And all my soul was quivering fear, when, lo! 
Upon the imperiled line, suspended high, 

" A silver perch ! My guilt that won the prey, 
Now turned to merit, had a guerdon rich 
Of hugs and praises, and made merry play, 
Until my triumph reached its highest pitch. 

" When all at home were told the wondrous feat, 
And how the little sister had fished well, 
In secret, though my fortune tasted sweet, 
I wondered why this happiness befell. 

" ' The little lass had luck, 5 the gardener said: 
And so I learned, luck was with glory wed." 

The " brown canal " where the fishing 
took place may be seen not far from Griff 
IJouse. 

Maggie is a precocious child and very fond 
/ of books. /' ' She understands what one 's talk- 
ing about so as never was/ said Mr. Tulliver, 
' and you should hear her read — straight off, 
as if she knowed it all beforehand. And allays 
at her book ! She '11 read the books and 
understand 'em better than half the folks as 

86 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

are growed up.'^/^ One may readily believe 
that such an author as George Eliot was fond 
of books when quite young, but it is some- 
what startling to find one of Maggie Tulli- 
ver's favorites still preserved in the family 
of George Eliot. This volume is Daniel De- 
foe's " History of the Devil." It is a highly 
prized memento of the great author, now 
owned by her nephew, the Rev. Frederic R. 
Evans, M.A., of Bedworth. Such connect- 
ing links inevitably suggest that many other 
incidents of Maggie's life may be not so much 
the product of the author's imagination as a 
pleasurable indulgence in the fond recollec- 
tions of childhood. The thick crop of trouble- 
some black hair which we know the author to 
have possessed is made the basis of more than 
one incident, the naughtiness of Maggie be- 
ing so delightfully real that no one but a 
genuine child of flesh and blood could ever 
have been guilty of it. Exasperated by the 
comments, criticisms, and recommendations 
of three aunts, and their unfavorable com- 
parisons of herself with the prim and dainty 
Cousin Lucy, Maggie rushes to her mother's 
room, seizes a large pair of scissors, and with 
one snip cuts off the great rebellious front 

87 



GEORGE ELIOT 

locks, which were always falling down into 
her face. Then, excited by her own daring, 
she hands the scissors to Tom to complete the 
job, and off come the long, thick hinder-locks, 
falling heavily to the floor. The hasty act is 
instantly repented, but too late, and poor 
Maggie has to endure the ridicule of Tom in t 
addition to a chorus of reproach and derision^ 
from the assembled aunts and uncles. 

Maggie's favorite retreat, when the scold- 
ing of her mother or the harshness of Tom 
drove her to despair, was " the great attic that 
ran under the old high-pitched roof." This 
was a very real place, and " Maggie's garret 9P 
in Griff House has been known to visitors for 
half a century. It was here that Maggie 
" fretted out all her ill-humors, and talked 
aloud to the worm-eaten floors and the worm- 
eaten shelves, and the dark rafters festooned 
with cobwebs." Here she kept an old wooden 
doll, which she punished for all her misfor- 
tunes by driving nails into its head. One can 
imagine the delight with which the author 
recalled driving the last nail with a fiercer 
stroke than usual because it represented Aunt 
Glegg! 

The strong affection of Mr. Tulliver is but 
r 88 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

a reflection of her father's love/ Mr. Evans 
often held his " little wench " between his 
knees, while she turned over the pages of a 
book, explaining to him the pictures in which 
she took great delight. She was his favorite, 
and he was very proud of the remarkable in- 
telligence of his little girl. 
^Tt must not be inferred, however, that Rob- 
ert Evans was so ignorant as Mr. Tulliver, 
nor that he was in any respect like him. The 
father's love is the sole element of reality here 
reproduced. " Tom Tulliver " is commonly 
said to have been Isaac Evans, the author's 
brother. This is true to the extent that Mary 
Ann Evans was fond of her brother Isaac, 
liked to play with him, sometimes fished with 
him, and possessed for him a strong admira- 
tion amounting almost to awe of his superior 
endowments. /It is also true that Isaac, like 
Tom, in latCT years failed to comprehend the 
yearnings of a woman's heart and allowed 
himself to become estranged from his sister 
for many years. His ideas of duty and right- 
eousness were paramount to everything else, 
and in following them to the extreme limit 
he seemed to overlook the demands of human 
sympathy. 

89 



GEORGE ELIOT 

The elder sister, always prim and tidy, 
faithful in her household duties, and not given 
to the indulgence of a too active imagination, 
furnished a sharp contrast to the eager, im- 
pressible, story-loving, but not very practical 
Mary Ann. Chrissy was naturally the favor- 
ite of the aunts, while the boy was his mother's 
pet. It seemed necessary, in painting this 
charming picture of her own childhood, that 
Chrissy should not be omitted, and we find 
her in little Lucy Deane, a model of deport- 
ment for whom the aunts never have a word 
of complaint. y/ 

Bob Jakin, who with his dog are among the 
most delightful of the minor characters, was 
an old acquaintance of the author. He was 
a friend of the Evans children in their life at 
Griff House, and many years after remem- 
bered carrying little Mary Ann on his back. 

A few years pass and we see Maggie at the 
- age of thirteen, " strangely old for her years." 
At about the same age Mary Ann Evans was 
sent to school at Coventry, and at once took 
rank far in advance of the other pupils. She 
was the most proficient in English composi- 
tion and in music, and she had an eager yearn- 
ing for more knowledge, which remained 

90 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

throughout her life. Maggie " often wished 
for books with more in themV everything she 
learned [at school] seemecr like the ends of 
long threads that snapped immediately." 
Her home life seemed so narrow and unprom- 
ising that she sometimes indulged in wild 
dreams of running away. She wanted some 
explanation of the hard facts of her life. " If 
she had been taught ' real learning and wis- 
dom, such as great men know/ she thought 
she should have held the secrets of life ; if she 
had only books, that she might learn for her- 
self what wise men knew! " 
/ Above all these yearnings for knowledge 
was a still greater craving for love. Maggie's 
heart went out in all its fullness to Tom, but 
his heart was colder than hers, his nature more 
practical and less romantic^ She felt the need 
of a stronger nature than ner own upon which 
to lean, of a sympathetic companion who could 
see life as she saw it. At about this time Bob 
Jakin appears with a little bundle of books 
tied with a string. It is an epoch in the life 
of Maggie, for she finds one book among 
them which for a time seems to bring content- 
ment. It is Thomas a Kempis's " Imitation 
of Christ." The pages devoted to this " voice 

91 



GEORGE ELIOT 

out of the far-off middle ages " show what a 
deep impression it made upon the author's 
mind. In describing the spiritual change 
wrought in the young girl's heart by this 
great book, she is writing out of her own 
inner consciousness. So, too, the constant 
yearning for love and sympathy, for the 
opportunity to pour out her soul to some 
one who could understand her, was one of 
Maggie's experiences which must have been 
duplicated in the author's early life, for she 
has more than once referred to precisely sim- 
ilar feelings. 

In these earlier chapters we have an im- 
pressionist portrait of the author's youth — i 
her needs, her hopes, her doubts, her fears. 
A few incidents of real experience are in- 
terwoven with a vivid presentation of the 
thoughts and yearnings of her woman's soul. 
The subsequent chapters, in which the char- 
acter of Maggie is developed with consum- 
mate skill from the impulsive, anxious-to-be- 
loved little girl into the beautiful woman, 
yielding for a moment to a great temptation, 
but finally summoning all her strength of will 
to resist, and conquering in the end, are among 
the most attractive in all fiction. But they 

92 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

are not autobiographical, although the love 
scene with Philip Wakem is placed in the 
Red Deeps, a spot very familiar to the girl- 
hood of George Eliot. This is a place, not 
far from Griff, where there is a hollow 
made by an old quarry, and now very much 
overgrown. " The brown canal " of the 
' Brother and Sister " sonnet runs through 
this depression, transforming it into a ro- 
mantic spot, admirably suited for a pair of 
lovers. 

Although " The Mill on the Floss " has a 
sad ending, its pages are brightened with a 
humor that is quite delightful. Robert 
Evans's second wife (George Eliot's mother) 
was a " Pearson," and three of her sisters 
were married and living in the neighborhood. 
The virtues of the Pearson family were doubt- 
less often exalted in that household. 

In her childhood George Eliot may have 
had some painful experiences with these three 
amiable ladies. But when years had softened 
any feelings of resentment, she held them up 
to good-humored ridicule in the fictitious per- 
sons of Aunt Glegg, Aunt Pullet, and Aunt 
Deane. These three, with Mrs. Tulliver, 
form the most amusing family in all George 

93 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Eliot's writings.^ All their words and actions 
are ludicrous. If Mrs. Poyser affords the 
author the best vehicle for a display of wit, 
the aunts and Mrs. Tulliver are her most 
humorous production. * " There was one 
evening cloud which had always disappeared 
from Mrs. Glegg's brow when she sat at the 
breakf ast- table ; it was her fuzzy front of 
curls; for, as she occupied herself in house- 
hold matters in the morning, it would have 
been a mere extravagance to put on anything 
so superfluous to the making of leathery 
pastry as a fuzzy curled front. By half -past 
ten decorum demanded the front; until then 
Mrs. Glegg could economize it, and Society 
would never be any the wiser." Visiting the 
home of the Rev. Frederic R. Evans, the 
writer was shown a life-size portrait of the 
original " Aunt Glegg." There was the 
" fuzzy curled front," the most striking fea- 
ture of the portrait, plainly in evidence! 

v The weakest of the family is Mrs. Tulliver, 
Although the mother of Maggie, she is far 
from a prototype of the mother of George 
Eliot. The latter had too much respect and 
love for her mother to picture her in such 
colors. But as a convenient vehicle for humor 

94 




Mrs. Everard, George Eliot's Aunt 
Caricatured as " Aunt Glegg" 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

Mrs. Tulliver is irresistibly ludicrous^ Her 
mind never rises above the ordinary tnoughts 
of housekeeping. When Tulliver consults his 
wife on the all-important question of Tom's 
education, her reply is: " Well, Mr. Tulliver, 
you know best: I've no objections. But 
had n't I better kill a couple of fowl and have 
th' aunts and uncles to dinner next week? 
. . • There 's a couple o' fowl wants killing." 
When it is proposed to call Mr. Riley into 
consultation, she remarks cheerfully: "Well, 
Mr. Tulliver, I 've put the sheets out for the 
best bed, and Kezia 's got 'em hanging at the 
fire. They are n't the best sheets, but they 're 
good enough for anybody to sleep in, be he 
who he will: for as for them best Holland 
sheets, I should repent buying 'em, only 
they '11 do to lay us out in. An' if you was to 
die to-morrow, Mr. Tulliver, they 're mangled 
beautiful, an' all ready, an' smell o' lavender 
as it 'ud be a pleasure to lay 'em out." 

When Maggie brings Tom home after the 
failure and mental collapse of their father, 
they find the unconscious Tulliver in his bed, 
attended only by the servant. The mother is 
seated despondently in the storeroom where 
her linen and " best things " were kept, weep- 

95 



GEORGE ELIOT 

ing over the silver teapot, the spoons, the best 
china, and the tablecloths with her full name 
on them. The certainty that they must all be 
" sold up," and the fear lest the aunts might 
not buy them and thereby save the things with 
the family name from being used by strangers, 
were quite too much for the poor woman. 
" I know they '11 none of 'em take my chany, 
for they all found fault with 'em when I 
bought 'em, 'cause o' the small gold sprig all 
over 'em, between the flowers." The aunts 
and uncles meet in solemn conference the 
next day, and Mrs. Tulliver makes a final 
tearful plea to save her teapot with her initials 
on it, even if it has a straight spout. ' Ah, 
dear, dear! ' said Aunt Pullet, ' it 's very bad 
— to think o' the family initials going about 
everywhere — it niver was so before, . . . 
but what 's the use o' buying the teapot when 
there 's the linen and spoons and everything 
to go, and some of 'em with your full name — 
and when it 's got that straight spout, too? ' " 
" ' As to disgrace o' the family,' said Mrs. 
Glegg, ' that can't be helped wi' buying tea- 
pots. The disgrace is for one of the family 
to ha' married a man as has brought her to 
beggary. The disgrace is that they 're to be 

96 



THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

sold up.' " Tom then throws a bomb into the 
camp by suggesting that if they don't want 
the family to be disgraced they buy all the 
things themselves, a proposition which nearly 
leads to a riot. Maggie then hurls defiance 
at her aunts, and Aunt Glegg delivers the 
final judgment, " Mark my wx>rds: that child 
'ull come to no good ; there is n't a bit of our 
family in her." For which Maggie was no 
doubt truly thankful. 

^^Because of its autobiographical character 
** The Mill on the Floss " is one of the most 
popular of George Eliot's novels. It has 
been more severely criticised, perhaps, than 
any of the others. Maggie is a most fasci- 
nating child, and her development, under the 
most discouraging circumstances, into a beau- 
tiful young woman is followed with breathless 
interest. But how, ask the critics, could such 
a woman so debase herself as to fall in love 
with a commonplace fop like Stephen Guest? 
Those who. ask such a question forget that 
George Eliot painted real lif^^ She knew 
that such a passionate, eager, yearning nature, 
tired of the stupidity of those with whom she 
was forced to live, craving the higher pleas- 
ure of association with clever people, the 

97 



GEORGE ELIOT 

allurement of poetry and art and music, might 
easily make the mistake of too readily trust- 
ing one through whom these joys might be 
realized. And Maggie felt such a temptation 
too strongly. But her error was not serious. 
Good sense and high moral courage came to 
the rescue and saved her good name. Maggie 
thus retains to the end the sympathy of the 
reader, and of all George Eliot's characters 
will ever remain the most lovable woman, as 
Adam Bede is the most admirable man. 

Mathilde Blind, the author of one of the 
most important biographies of George Eliot, 
says: " ' The Mill on the Floss ' is the most 
poetical of George Eliot's novels. The great 
Floss, hurrying between green pastures to 
the sea, gives a unity of its own to this story, 
which opens to the roar of waters, the welter- 
ing waters which accompany it at the close. 
It forms the elemental background which 
rounds the little lives of the ill-starred family 
group nurtured on its banks. The childhood 
of Tom and Maggie Tulliver is inextricably 
blended with this swift river, the traditions of 
which have been to them as fairy tales; its 
haunting presence is more or less with them 
throughout their chequered existence; and 

98 




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THE MILL ON THE FLOSS 

when pride and passion, when shame and sor- 
row, have divided the brother and sister, pur- 
sued as by some tragic fate, the Floss seems 
to rise in sympathy, and submerges them in 
its mighty waters to unite them once more 
' in an embrace never to be parted/ " 
/The love affairs of Maggie, although she 
finally obeys the dictates of her conscience, 
cause a separation from her beloved brother, 
who is unable to understand her broad views 
of life and the yearnings of her woman's 
nature. But when the flood comes and 
Maggie goes to the rescue of Tom, they have 
a brief moment of the old childish happiness, 
" living through again in one supreme mo- 
ment the days when they had clasped their 
little hands in love and roamed the daisied 
fields together." On their tomb was written, 
" In their death they were not divided." 

George Eliot's union with Mr. Lewes 
caused an estrangement with her brother 
Isaac, although her own affection toward him 
remained through it all, in spite of their 
silence. After the death of Mr. Lewes and 
the marriage with Mr. Cross there was a re- 
conciliation, and arrangements were made for 
a family reunion. Unfortunately, George 

99 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Eliot's last illness immediately followed, and 
the visit to her brother's home was never 
made ; but in death they were not divided, for 
Isaac Evans was among those who stood by 
her grave, on that cold, wet day in December 
when she was laid to rest in Highgate Cem- 
etery. Thus the prophecy of " The Mill on 
the Floss " was singularly fulfilled, more 
than a score of years after the book was, 
written. 



100 



SILAS MARNER 







Robert Evans, George Eliot's Father 
The original of " Adam Bede M 



SILAS MARKER 

SILAS MARNER" seemed literally 
to force itself into the world. Imme- 
diately after the last finishing stroke 
had been put upon " The Mill on the Floss," 
on the twenty-first day of March, 1860, the 
author prepared for a three months' visit for 
rest and recreation in Italy. Before this visit 
was finished, scarcely two months later, she 
had conceived a most ambitious project. It 
came to her while in Florence and grew out 
of her enthusiasm for the things which she 
saw in that beautiful and wonderful historic 
city. She says, " I was fired with the idea 
of writing an historical romance — scene 
Florence; period the close of the fifteenth 
century, which was marked by Savonarola's 
career and martyrdom." But in spite of the 
fact that the summer and autumn were spent 
in meditating upon this great undertaking, 
another story came across her other plans, as 
she said, by a sudden inspiration. So " Rom- 
ola " had to be held in suspense until " Silas 
Marner " could be written. The story, thus 

103 



GEORGE ELIOT 

strangely interjected, was finished on March 
10, 1861, within a year after the completion 
of " The Mill on the Floss," although much 
of the time had been consumed in preparation 
for and meditation upon a far more preten- 
tious novel. It was well that " Silas " insisted 
upon an immediate introduction, for " Rom- 
ola " proved such a tremendous task that 
there is every reason to believe that, had 
" Silas Marner " been postponed, it would 
never have been written, and the world would 
have lost one of the most perfect novels in 
our literature. 

Sir Leslie Stephen includes "Silas Marner" 
with the " Scenes of Clerical Life," " Adam 
Bede," and " The Mill on the Floss," in the 
group of George Eliot's earlier novels, which, 
he says, " have the unmistakable mark of high 
genius." " They are something for which it 
is simply out of the question to find any sub- 
stitute. Strike them out of English literature 
and we feel there would be a gap not to 
be filled up; a distinct vein of thought and 
feeling unrepresented; a characteristic and 
delightful type of social development left 
without any adequate interpreter." Like 
the three books which preceded it, ' Silas 

104 



SILAS MARNER 

Marner " isjjitensel^realist^ But it has a 
realism of a different kind. The types of 
character are drawn from life and are true; 
but not one can be even remotely identified. 
The scenery is a perfect picture of the English 
Midlands, but the village of Raveloe, unlike 
Milby, Hayslope, and St. Oggs, cannot be 
located on the map. Although suggested by 
the author's " recollection of having once, in 
early childhood, seen a linen-weaver with a 
bag on his back," yet the story is in no way 
connected with her early life, nor is it based 
upon any incidents, so far as known, which 
actually occurred in her experience. In these 
important respects it differs so widely from 
the earlier volumes that one would scarcely 
think of it as belonging to the same class, 
except that it is like them in its freshness of 
atmosphere, its simplicity of style, and the 
absence of that complexity of treatment which 
characterized the later novels. 

But though the scenes of " Silas Marner ' r 
cannot be specifically identified, yet the back- 
grounds and characters belong to Warwick- 
shire. George Eliot's father, it must be re- 
membered, was a land agent, and as such he 
enjoyed an association with people of the 

105 



GEORGE ELIOT 

upper and middle classes. He doubtless 
knew many such families as those of Squire 
Cass and Mr. Lammeter, and more than one 
rector like Mr. Crackenthorp, while the fact 
that he was also a farmer and had been a car- 
penter and forester no doubt brought him into 
close touch with humbler folk. Indeed, there 
is much about " Silas Marner " to suggest 
the Warwickshire environment. The picture 
of the village choir, conducted by the wheel- 
wright with the assistance of the " bassoon w 
and the " key-bugle," is strongly suggestive 
of the Shepperton choir in the " Scenes of 
Clerical Life," and their anthem in which 
" the key-bugles always ran away at a great 
pace, while the bassoon every now and then 
boomed a flying shot after them." Mr. 
Macey, the old parish clerk and village tailor, 
with a great reputation for singing, suggests 
Joshua Rann in "Adam Bede," the shoe- 
maker and clerk to whom nature had given 
" a fine bass voice and a musical ear," and both 
suggest the carpenter in "Amos Barton," who 
was understood to have an amazing power of 
singing " counter." The prototypes of all 
three were doubtless a part of the author's 
girlhood memories. Her father once sang in 

106 



SILAS MARNER 

the village choir, and she herself no doubt well 
remembered such scenes in the Chilvers Coton 
[Shepperton] Church which she attended as 
a girl. 

The " Rainbow," the public house of Rav- 
eloe, brings together many of the characteris- 
tic types of Warwickshire, and their gathering 
as described by George Eliot is delightfully 
amusing. This chapter may fairly be called 
the high-water mark of the author's humor, 
and there are few chapters, even in Dickens, 
which compare with it. /There was a bar or 
kitchen on the right hand where the " less 
lofty customers " assembled, while the parlor 
on the left was reserved for the " more select 
society." Exactly the same arrangement may 
be seen in the Bull Hotel of Nuneaton, the 
prototype of the Red Lion of Milby, a public 
house where Robert Evans doubtless often 
met men of the types who frequented the 
Rainbow. The room on the right is the scene 
of this chapter, which opens with a comical 
picture of the assembled company, all puffing 
their pipes "in a silence which had an air of 
severity; the more important customers, who 
drank spirits and sat nearest the fire, staring 
at each other as if a bet were depending on 

107 



GEORGE ELIOT 

the first man who winked; while the beer- 
drinkers, chiefly men in fustian jackets and 
smock frocks, kept their eyelids down and 
rubbed their hands across their mouths, as if 
their draughts of beer were a funereal duty 
attended with embarrassing sadness." Finally 
Mr. Snell, the landlord, broke the silence by 
remarking doubtfully to the butcher, " Some 
folks 'ud say that was a fine beast you druv 
in yesterday, Bob!" The butcher "gave a 
few puffs before he spat and replied, 'And 
they would n't be fur wrong, John/ " after 
which " feeble delusive thaw " the silence set 
in as severely as before. 

But this was only the usual beginning. The 
landlord had the art of putting the right ques- 
tions and bringing out the proper answers, 
and so the same old stories were told, night 
after night, with everybody interested as if 
they were new. The favorite form of wit 
was a sort of "unflinching frankness," 
as when Ben Winthrop, criticising poor 
Tookey's musical gifts, remarked: ; Your 
voice is well enough when you keep it up in 
your nose. It 's your inside as is n't right 
made for music; it 's no better nor a hollow 
stalk." 

108 



SILAS MARNER 

The landlord displays a great genius for 
warding off the bad effects of such shafts of 
ridicule, frequently declaring: " Come, come, 
a joke 's a joke. We 're all good friends here, 
I hope. We must give and take. You 're 
both right and you 're both wrong, as I say." 
By a judicious amount of flattery and by 
skillfully putting the proper questions he 
" warms up " Mr. Macey, until the old gentle- 
man begins to tell the same story he had told 
many times before, to which the company 
listen as to a favorite tune. "At certain 
points the puffing of the pipes was momen- 
tarily suspended, that the listeners might give 
their whole minds to the expected words." 

" ' For Mr. Drumlow — poor old gentleman, I 
was fond on him, though he 'd got a bit confused 
in his head, what wi' age and wi' taking a drop 
o' summat warm when the service come of a cold 
morning, and young Mr. Lammeter he 'd have no 
way but he must be married in Janiwary, which, 
to be sure, 's a unreasonable time to be married in, 
for it is n't like a christening or a burying as you 
can't help ; and so Mr. Drumlow — poor old gentle- 
man, I was fond on him — but when he come to 
put the questions, he put 'em by the rule of con- 
trairy, like, and he says, " Wilt thou have this man 

109 



GEORGE ELIOT 

to thy wedded wife? " says he, and then he says, 
" Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded hus- 
band? " says he. But the partic'larest thing of 
all is, as nobody took any notice on it but me, and 
they answered straight off " Yes," like as if it had 
been me saying " Amen " i' the right place, with- 
out listening to what went before.' 

" ' But you knew what was going on well enough, 
didn't you, Mr. Macey? You were live enough, 
eh? ' said the butcher. 

" ' Lor bless you ! ' said Mr. Macey, pausing and 
smiling in pity at the impotence of his hearer's 
imagination, — ' why, I was all of a tremble ; it was 
as if I 'd been a coat pulled by the two tails, like ; 
for I could n't stop the parson, I could n't take 
upon me to do that; and yet I said to myself, I 
says, " Suppose they should n't be fast married, 
'cause the words are contrairy? " and my head went 
working like a mill, for I was allays uncommon fer 
turning things over and seeing all round 'em; and 
I says to myself, " Is 't the meanin' or the words 
as makes folks fast i' wedlock? " For the parson 
meant right and the bride and bridegroom meant 
right. But then, when I come to think on it, 
meanin' goes but a little way i' most things, for 
you may mean to stick things together and your 
glue may be bad, and then where are you? And 
so I says to mysen, " It is n't the meanin', it 's the 
glue." And I was worreted as if I 'd got three 

110 



SILAS MARNER 

bells to pull at once, when we went into the vestry, 
and they begun to sign their names. But where 's 
the use of talking? You can't think what goes on 
in a 'cute man's inside.' 

" ' But you held in for all that, did n't you, Mr. 
Macey?' said the landlord. 

" ' Ay, I held in tight till I was by mysen, wi' 
Mr. Drumlow, and then I out wi' everything, but 
respectful, as I allays did. And he made light on 
it, and he says, " Pooh, pooh, Macey, make your- 
self easy," he says ; " it 's neither the meaning nor 
the words — it 's the register does it — that 's the 
glue." So you see he settled it easy; for parsons 
and doctors know everything by heart, like, so as 
they are n't worreted wi' thinking what 's the rights 
and wrongs o' things as I 've been many and many 's 
the time.' " 

By easy stages the conversation turned to 
ghosts, a subject upon which Mr. Dowlas, the 
farrier, who was the " negative spirit " of 
the company, had positive convictions. Mr. 
Macey, in the course of his story, came to the 
mysterious noises and lights in the stables at 
a certain place called Cliff's Holiday. Mr. 
Dowlas, who had been impatiently awaiting 
his cue, promptly offered to bet ten pounds 
that if any man would go with him on any 

111 



GEORGE ELIOT 

dry night to that vicinity he would " neither 
see lights nor hear noises, if it is n't the blow- 
ing of our own noses." 

" ' Why, Dowlas, that 's easy betting, that is, 5 
said Ben Winthrop. ' You might as well bet a man 
as he would n't catch the rheumatise if he stood up 
to 's neck in the pool of a frosty night. It 'ud be 
fine fun for a man to win his bet as he 'd catch 
the rheumatise. Folks as believe in Cliff's Holiday 
are n't agoing to venture near it for a matter o' 
ten pound.' 



5? 



The controversy waxed warm, until the 
landlord exercised his office as peacemaker. 

" c Ay, but there 's this in it, Dowlas,' said the 
landlord, speaking in a tone of much candor and 
tolerance. 6 There 's folk, i' my opinion, they can't 
see ghos'es, not if they stood as plain as a pike- 
staff before 'em, and there 's reason i' that. For 
there 's my wife, now, can't smell, not if she 'd the 
strongest o' cheese under her nose. I never see'd 
a ghost myself ; but then I says to myself, " Very 
like I have n't got the smell for 'em." I mean, 
putting a ghost for a smell, or else contrairiways. 
And so, I 'm for holding with both sides ; for, as 
I say, the truth lies between 'em, and if Dowlas 
was to go and stand, and say he 'd never seen a 
wink o' Cliff's Holiday all the night through, I 'd 

112 



SILAS MARNER 

back him; and if anybody said as Cliff's Holiday 
was certain sure for all that, I 'd back him too. 
For the smell 's what I go by ! ' 

" The landlord's analogical argument was not 
well received by the farrier, a man intensely op- 
posed to compromise. 

" ' Tut, tut,' he said, setting down his glass with 
refreshed irritation ; ' what 's the smell got to do 
with it? Did ever a ghost give a man a black eye? 
That 's what I should like to know. If ghos'es 
want me to believe in 'em, let 'em leave off skulk- 
ing i' the dark and i' lone places — let 'em come 
where there 's company and candles.' 

" ' As if ghos'es 'ud want to be believed in by 
anybody so ignirant,' said Mr. Macey, in deep 
disgust at the farrier's crass incompetence to ap- 
prehend the conditions of ghostly phenomena." 

This scene at the Rainbow fairly rivals 
Shakespeare in the piquancy of its humor and 
the realism of its types. Mr. Macey, Mr. 
Snell the landlord, Mr. Dowlas the farrier, 
and Ben Winthrop the big good-natured 
wheelwright seem like old friends, for whom 
we have something like genuine affection. 

But the circle is not complete until we have 
added Dolly Winthrop, Ben's good wife and 
Silas Marner's stanch friend. She was a 

113 



GEORGE ELIOT 

woman of scrupulous conscience, who rose at 
half-past four every morning and felt worried 
if there were insufficient duties to fill the long 
day. She was the one person who was needed 
whenever there was illness or death in the 
village. She was a " comfortable woman/' 
good-looking and " fresh complexioned," but 
always grave and " inclined to shake her head 
and sigh, almost imperceptibly, like a fune- 
real mourner who is not a relation." 

" It seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop, who 
loved his quart pot and his joke, got along so well 
with Dolly; but she took her husband's jokes and 
joviality as patiently as everything else, consider- 
ing that ' men would be so,' and viewing the stronger 
sex in the light of animals whom it had pleased 
Heaven to make naturally troublesome, like bulls 
and turkey-cocks." 

Dolly's strong point was a sublime faith in 
the Creator, to whom she always referred as 
" Them." 

u If a bit o' trouble comes, I feel as I can put 
up wi 5 it, for 1 5 ve looked for help in the right 
quarter, and gev myself up to Them as we must 
all give ourselves up to at the last ; and if we 'n 
done our part, it is n't to be believed as Them as 

114 



SILAS MARNER 

are above us 5 ull be worse nor we are, and come 
short o' Their'n." 

It is this good soul who comes, just when 
needed, to Silas Marner. The little golden- 
haired child who appeared in the cabin of 
Silas so mysteriously just after the loss of 
his store of gold brought with her some do- 
mestic problems far beyond the ability of 
Silas to solve without feminine aid. It is a 
pretty picture where Dolly gently instructs 
Silas in the art of dressing the baby. 

u * You see this goes first, next the skin, 5 proceeded 
Dolly, taking up the little shirt and putting it on. 

" * Yes, 5 said Marner, docilely, bringing his eyes 
very close, that they might be initiated in the mys- 
teries; whereupon Baby seized his head with both 
her small arms and put her lips against his face 
with purring noises. 

" ' See there, 5 said Dolly, with a woman's tender 
tact, ' she 5 s fondest of you. She wants to go o 5 
your lap, 1 5 11 be bound. Go, then ; take her, 
Master Marner; you can put the things on, and 
then you can say as you 5 ve done for her from the 
first of her coming to you. 5 

" Marner took her on his lap, trembling with 
an emotion mysterious to himself, at something un- 
known dawning on his life. Thought and feeling 

115 



GEORGE ELIOT 

were so confused within him that if he had tried 
to give them utterance he could only have said that 
the child was come instead of the gold. 



55 



Nowhere can be found a more beautiful 
transition than that of Silas Marner's little 
heap of gold into a lovely, golden-haired little 
girl. King Midas received the power of turn- 
ing everything he touched into glittering gold 
— a valuable gift, but an inconvenient and 
distressing one, as it proved. As Hawthorne 
tells the tale, his little daughter Marygold 
ran to give him an affectionate kiss, when she 
too was turned into gold. Silas Marner ex- 
actly reversed the experience. He was a 
lonely weaver, seldom coming in touch with 
other men; a dried-up specimen of humanity 
having as little in common with the rest of 
mankind as the little old loom of which he 
seemed a mechanical part. His one source 
of enjoyment was the bag of gold which he 
had slowly accumulated as the result of years 
of hard work and miserly habits. Suddenly 
this gold disappeared, and while Silas was 
bemoaning his ill luck a strange chance 
brought into the little cabin a beautiful child 
with soft sunny curls. It seemed to Silas as 

116 



SILAS MARNER 

if his gold had returned. And so it had, but 
in a far more precious form. The little girl 
grew up to be a loving daughter, and Silas 
learned the joy of a father's tender affection. 
He became a man once more, full of the joys 
of human existence. When Eppie was mar- 
ried, she and her husband preferred to remain 
with Silas at the old cottage, and the story 
closes with her exclamation, " O father, what 
a pretty home ours is ! I think nobody could 
be happier than we are." Silas's gold had 
come back in the form of human love, gifted 
with the power of transforming everything 
into the likeness of itself through its own 
precious touch. 



117 






GEORGE ELIOT 

SCENES AND PEOPLE IN HER NOVELS 



ROMOLA 









ROMOLA 

THE inspiration of Romola came during 
a fortnight's visit to Florence in May, 
1860. The real work of preparation 
was undertaken a year later, when Florence 
was again visited on the 4th of May, 1861, 
w ' Thirty-four days of precious time " were 
spent there, " looking at streets, buildings, 
and pictures, in hunting up old books, at 
shops or stalls, or in reading at the Maglia- 
becohian Library." Dr. Guido Biagi, Libra- 
rian of the Laurentiaai Library, Florence, has 
taken the trouble to search through the ar- 
chives of the Magliabecchian Library and to 
take down from the top of a cupboard some 
dusty bundles of receipts for books, dating 
back nearly half a century, to ascertain just 
what volumes were consulted by George Eliot 
and Mr. Lewes while there. All the receipts 
were signed by Mr. Lewes, who, though in 
poor health, took upon himself much of the 
burden of these tedious investigations. The 
first book consulted, according to these re- 
ceipts, was an illustrated work on costumes, 

121 



GEORGE ELIOT 

showing, curiously enough, that the author's 
first thought was to have her characters prop- 
erly clothed. On the next day they had many 
books, among them, says Dr. Biagi, " the 
* Malmantile ' by Lippi, a comic poem which 
is a perfect mine of phrases, proverbs, and 
quaint sayings, fully illustrated and explained 
by Canon A. M. Biscioni ; and it was doubt- 
less in these instructive notes that George 
Eliot found many of the jests and sayings 
which she was pleased to insert in her novel." 
And so her characters were taught to speak 
the language. Then followed the study of 
the historical backgrounds — for the story 
was not to concern the Florence of the 
author's own time, but must go back more 
than three centuries and a half, to the medi- 
eval city of Savonarola's time, with its sur- 
rounding wall and defensive towns, guarding 
a municipality already rich in architecture, 
painting, and sculpture. The descriptions in 
these old books and manuscripts, which were 
so carefully studied, were often reproduced 
with great accuracy; for George Eliot de- 
lighted in picturing real scenes, and if she 
could no longer draw upon her memory for 
scenes and incidents which she well knew, it 

122 



ROMOLA 

was essential for her to acquire familiarity 
by means of a most prodigious amount of 
reading and study. 

After a little more than a month of this 
kind of labor, seriously impeded by ill-health, 
George Eliot returned to England, to utilize 
her newly gained material in the construction 
of a novel. The pain it cost her may be faintly 
realized by reading her letters and journal of 
this period, which abound in expressions like 
these: — July 30, 1861, " I am much afflicted 
with hopelessness and melancholy just now "; 
Aug. 1, " Struggling constantly with de- 
pression " ; Aug. 12, " Got into a state of so 
much wretchedness in attempting to concen- 
trate my thoughts on the construction of my 
story that I became desperate, and suddenly 
burst my bonds, saying, ' I will not think of 
writing ' "; Oct. 28 and 30, " Not very well, 
— utterly desponding about my book " ; Feb. 
17, 1862, " I have written only the first two 
chapters of my novel besides the Proem, and 
I have an oppressive sense of the far-stretch- 
ing task before me, health being feeble just 
now "; Feb. 28, " I ask myself, without being 
able to answer, whether I have ever before 
felt so chilled and oppressed. I have written 

123 



GEORGE ELIOT 

now about sixty pages of my romance. Will 
it ever be finished ? Will it ever be worth any- 
thing? " Dec. 17, " I am extremely spirit- 
less, dead and hopeless about my writing. 
The long state of headache has left me in 
depression and incapacity." 

The novel was finally completed on June 
9, 1863, after two years of severe mental 
strain, in the midst of physical suffering. 
Mr. Cross says: " The writing of ' Romola ' 
ploughed into her more than any of her other 
books. She told me she could put her finger 
on it as marking a well-defined transition in 
her life. In her own words, ' I began it a 
young woman, I finished it an old woman/ 

The real life of " Romola " is the life of 
history. The limits of the story are exactly 
defined, beginning April 9, 1492, with the 
death of Lorenzo the Magnificent and clos- 
ing with the execution of Savonarola on the 
23d of May, 1498. 

The first of these dates marked the close 
of the career of one of the most splendid 
patrons of the arts of painting, sculpture, 
music, and poetry the world has ever known. 
Lorenzo de' Medici recognized the genius of 
Michelangelo when the latter was a lad of 

124 



POMOLA 

fifteen, and made him an inmate of his own 
home, where he was given an allowance and 
treated as a member of the family. Leonardo 
da Vinci worked in Florence under his pat- 
ronage six or seven years. Three of Botti- 
celli's finest works (" The Birth of Venus," 
'Spring," and " Pallas ") were executed to 
his order. Indeed, it is said that there was 
scarcely one of the many artists and sculp- 
tors who achieved distinction in that period 
who failed to receive some benefit, directly 
or indirectly, from Lorenzo de' Medici. 

He was one of the foremost statesmen of 
his time, could discuss philosophy with the 
ablest men of the Platonic Academy, and 
ranked well with the leading poets. He was 
an enthusiastic collector of rare books and 
manuscripts, adding to the extensive library 
founded by his grandfather, Cosimo de' 
Medici. Passionately fond of all kinds of 
amusements, he indulged the people of 
Florence to their hearts' content in festivi- 
ties and pageants. Fabulous sums were ex- 
pended in the decoration of triumphal cars, 
and he himself wrote erotic verses to be sung 
during the carnivals. Commerce flourished 
as never before, and Florence became the 

125 



GEORGE ELIOT 

center for an unprecedented display of 
wealth and luxury. The city was crowded 
with scholars, poets, philosophers, artists, 
statesmen, and wealthy merchants. Though 
not a king, Lorenzo reigned as an absolute 
monarch, and to his so-called " tyranny " the 
people cheerfully submitted. The system 
may have been wrong, but the ruler was 
popular, and under him Florence lived in a 
blaze of luxurious magnificence. 

Into this society came the monk Savona- 
rola to utter his emphatic protest against 
the immorality, the extravagance, and the 
paganism of the age. The period of his 
greatest influence began in 1491 with his 
election as Prior of San Marco. According 
to custom, Savonarola was expected to pay 
a ceremonial visit to Lorenzo upon his elec- 
tion as Prior, but this he refused to do. 
Instead he sent a curt message, saying, 
" Tell him to repent of his sins, for the Lord 
spares no one, and fears not the princes of 
the earth." After Lorenzo's death the gov- 
ernment passed to his son, Piero, who cared 
little for the task and left affairs in the 
hands of his chancellor. He was soon ex- 
pelled, leaving Florence to the chaos of con- 

126 




< 

o 

< 
z 
c 
> 
< 
in 






3 

O 




h 
Z 



ROMOLA 

flicting political parties. This gave Savona- 
rola his opportunity. His eloquence drew 
great crowds to the Duomo, where he now 
began to preach. He terrorized and at the 
same time fascinated the people of Florence 
by his severe denunciation of their immoral- 
ity and the threat of destruction to the city 
if they did not reform. By the fulfillment of 
two or three of his predictions, he acquired 
great fame as a prophet, and when he 
preached the coming of a new Cyrus, who 
would scourge the city for her sins, he was 
universally believed. So when Charles VIII 
entered Florence on the 17th of November, 
1494, he was hailed with joy as the fulfill- 
ment of a prophecy. The presence of 
Charles, however, was not an unmixed bless- 
ing, and the Florentines were glad to be rid 
of him. It was due to Savonarola that he 
did much less mischief than he intended, the 
great priest threatening him with the chas- 
tisement of the Lord if he failed to respect 
the city and to perform his duty as an in- 
strument in the hands of God for the refor- 
mation of the Church. When a treaty had 
been signed and the King had outstayed his 
welcome by several days, Savonarola was sent 

127 



GEORGE ELIOT 

to tell him that he was neglecting the task 
which Providence had assigned and that it 
was about time to depart. The King so feared 
the prophet that he dared not tarry. But 
he nevertheless helped himself quite freely to 
the treasures of the Medicean Palace, where 
he had been housed, carrying away gold and 
silver medals, a fine collection of cameos, and 
other works of art valued at many thousands 
of ducats. 

Savonarola's power continued to increase 
until in 1494 a new constitution was adopted 
in accordance with his ideas and several im- 
portant reforms were enacted into law. Al- 
most the entire populace regarded him with 
enthusiastic admiration as a preacher, states- 
man, and leader of the people, mingled with 
feelings of reverence and awe as a prophet 
of the Almighty. But his enemies gradually 
gained in strength. His violent denunciation 
of the clergy, the cardinals, and even the 
Pope for licentiousness, simony, and scan- 
dalous conduct brought him the enmity of 
Rome. The Franciscans became jealous of 
the growing power of the Dominicans and 
hated Savonarola as their leader. All the 
vicious elements of the city were waiting only 

128 



ROMOLA 

for an opportunity to attack him. Florence 
was divided between the Arabbiati, the bitter 
enemies of the Frate, and the Piagnoni, who 
were his zealous supporters. 

The culmination of Savonarola's popular- 
ity was reached when his religious zeal so 
wrought upon the people that they were 
willing to engage with fanatical enthusiasm 
in the ceremony of the " burning of the van- 
ities." An enormous pyramid was erected 
in the Piazza della Signoria, upon which were 
piled the so-called anathemce, or vanities. 
Early editions of priceless value, rare manu- 
scripts, beautiful works of art, and musical 
instruments of every sort were mingled in a 
heterogeneous mass of false hair, rouge-pots, 
chess boards, and playing cards, and the 
whole consumed in a gigantic bonfire amid 
the joyful exclamations of the people and 
the pious singing of hymns. 

The open disobedience of Savonarola to 
the orders of the Pope led to his excommu- 
nication. The Dominicans defied the papal 
authority, and the Frate continued to preach. 
Then came the challenge to pass through the 
ordeal of fire. This proposition, made by 
the Franciscan monks, was seized upon by 

129 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Savonarola's enemies to compass his ruin. 
It was a test which he could neither refuse 
nor successfully perform. Elaborate prepa- 
rations were made, but the whole affair ended 
in a fiasco, much to the disappointment of 
the people and consequent loss of faith in the 
prophet. His arrest soon followed, and then 
the farcical and illegal trial and execution. 

These are the events through which the 
reader of " Romola " is led, and they are 
presented with rare dramatic power. With 
scarcely an exception all the actors in this 
great drama are brought upon the stage with 
the most intense realism. Statesmen, orators, 
merchants, cardinals, monks, politicians, dem- 
agogues, soldiers, poets, philosophers, and 
artists, representing all classes of society and 
all the warring factions, appear before us in 
the streets, palaces, and churches of Florence, 
wearing the costumes of the fifteenth century, 
retailing the gossip, laughing over the jokes 
and pleasantries, bewailing the hardships, or 
engaged in the learned discourse of that 
period. To the student of history Romola, 
Tito Melema, Baldassarre and Tessa seem 
almost an interpolation, all else is so intensely 
real. Romola herself, though a fictitious char- 

130 



ROMOLA 

acter, is a member of the famous Bardi family, 
who once were known as the principal bankers 
of Europe. Their downfall came about 
through the injudicious loan of a large sum 
to King Edward III of England which that 
monarch failed to repay. The grandmother 
of L'orenzo the Magnificent was a member of 
this distinguished family. 

Bernardo del Nero, who is introduced as 
the godfather of Romola and the most 
trusted friend of her blind father, was one 
of the foremost citizens of Florence. He 
was an ardent Medicean, and one of those 
whom Lorenzo promoted to important offices 
to maintain his own supremacy. He was the 
leader of the Bigi, sl faction composed of 
those who secretly sought the restoration of 
Piero de' Medici while ostensibly supporting 
Savonarola. He was elected Gonfalonier in 
the spring of 1497, thus achieving the high- 
est aspiration of a Florentine citizen. In 
August of the same year he, with four other 
citizens of high repute, was convicted of 
treasonable negotiations with Piero de' Medici 
and through the rancorous enmity of his 
chief rival, Francesco Valori, was sentenced 
to death. 

131 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Nello the barber, whose shop in the Piazza 
San Giovanni was the " focus of Florentine 
intellect and in that sense the navel of the 
earth/' is an almost literal copy of Domenico 
Burchiello, a barber and poet who flourished 
half a century before the period of Romola. 
The description of his shop, with its inner 
room arranged with chairs and tables, books 
in manuscript, paintings, and musical instru- 
ments, a " fitting haunt for the Muses," was; 
taken from the establishment of Burchiello, 
a picture of which may be seen in the Medici 
Gallery. Nello differs from his predecessor 
only in the fact that he did not claim to be 
a poet. His shop serves as a convenient place 
in which the novelist introduces many of the 
leading Florentines of the period. 

Piero di Cosimo, entering the shop of Nello 
and seeing Tito Melema for the first time, 
instantly invites that young man to give him 
a sitting as the model for his picture of a 
traitor. "A perfect traitor," he says, "should 
have a face which vice can write no marks 
on — lips that will lie with a dimpled smile 
— eyes of such agate-like brightness and 
depth that no infamy can dull them — cheeks 
that will rise from a murder and not look 

132 



ROMOLA 

haggard." Thus the author gives an insight 
into the character of Tito long before his 
baseness is revealed by the course of events. 
Piero di Cosimo was famous in Florence for 
his eccentricities. His paintings are of an 
extravagant, imaginative character, full of 
fantastic creations. 

Domenico Cennini, who accompanied Piero 
to the shop, was a son of Bernardo Cen- 
nini, the first Florentine printer, who set up 
a press in 1471, producing an edition of Virgil 
as his first book. 

Bartolommeo Scala, who became the pa- 
tron of Tito, making him the successor of the 
learned Demetrio Calcondila (another of 
Nello's customers) in the chair of Greek, 
then maintained in Florence, was a wealthy 
citizen, whose residence is now known as the 
Palace della Gherardesca. His portrait may 
be seen in a fresco in the Uffizi Gallery. 

Among the many other distinguished pa- 
trons of this literary barber shop was Do- 
menico Ghirlandajo, the great painter who 
was then " making the walls of the churches 
reflect the life of Florence." The frescos 
which adorn the choir of Santa Maria No- 
vella, designed to suggest the lofty dignity 

133 



GEORGE ELIOT 

and intellectual power of the city, contain the 
portraits of Demetrio Calcondila, Marsilio 
Ficino, Cristoforo Landino, Angelo Polizi- 
ano, and Ghirlandajo himself, all of whom 
appear in the pages of " Romola " with suf- 
ficient frequency to make one feel that he 
has really been introduced to the higher in- 
tellectual life of the city. With them we 
meet Cronaca, one of the best architects of his 
day, who completed the great Strozzi Palace ; 
Luigi Pulci, a court poet to the Medici, and 
many others. 

Niccolo Machiavelli, who appears quite 
frequently at Nello's shop and is represented 
as one of Tito's most intimate companions, 
of exactly his own age, was one of the most 
distinguished characters of this epoch. In 
one of the closing chapters Tito signifies a 
desire to resign the office of Secretary to the 
Council of Ten with the understanding that 
Niccolo Machiavelli is to be his successor. 
Machiavelli actually began his public career 
by his appointment in 1498 to this office, 
which he held for fifteen years. That George 
Eliot modeled Tito after the character of 
Machiavelli is too much to assert. But the 
resemblances between the distinguished Flor- 

134 



ROMOLA 

entine and this creature of George Eliot's 
fancy are nevertheless striking. Both moved 
in the highest circles of statesmanship and 
diplomacy. Machiavelli had the art of seem- 
ing merely to express the views of his prin- 
cipals, while in reality he was the one who 
had inspired and dictated them. So Tito's 
mission to Siena in quest of evidence against 
Bernardo del Nero was undertaken at his 
own suggestion. Machiavelli's name has be- 
come a synonym for craftiness, treachery, 
and cruelty in politics. Macaulay said of 
him, " Out of his surname they have coined 
an epithet for a knave and out of his Chris- 
tian name (Niccolo) a synonym for the 
devil." His famous (or infamous) principle 
was always that the end justified the means. 
" Where it is an absolute question of the 
welfare of our country," said he, " we must 
admit of no considerations of justice or in- 
justice, of mercy or cruelty, of praise or 
ignominy. ... It is essential, therefore, for 
a Prince who desires to, maintain his posi- 
tion to have learned how to be other than 
good, and to use or not use his goodness 
as necessity requires. ... A prudent Prince 
neither can nor ought to keep his word, 
when to keep it is hurtful to him." 

135 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Except that Tito's motives were his own 
selfish interests and not the good of the state, 
these principles were the key-note to all his 
acts. In justice to Machiavelli it should be 
said that he merely voiced the prevalent views 
of his times, and the immorality here ex- 
pressed was typical of the politics of the fif- 
teenth and sixteenth centuries in Europe. 
Tito Melema, therefore, though an original 
creation of the novelist's imagination, was 
fairly representative of the average Floren- 
tine politician and diplomat. Even that 
highly esteemed citizen Bernardo del Nero 
is known to have shared the views of 
Machiavelli. 

On a certain lazy afternoon in September 
Tito was on his way to the Scala Palace, 
where he was to present himself " in radiant 
company." The young Cardinal Giovanni 
de' Medici and Bernardo Dovizi of Bibbiena, 
who later became Tito's intimate friend, were 
to be there. Giovanni had been created a 
cardinal when only thirteen years of age, 
though the announcement of the honor was 
withheld for three years because of his youth. 
At the age of thirty-eight he was elected 
Pope, taking the title of Leo X. His elec- 
tion was bitterly opposed, but was finally 

136 



ROMOLA 

accomplished through a corrupt bargain, 
negotiated by Bernardo Dovizi, who was 
rewarded with a cardinal's hat. But these 
were not the only Mediceans with whom Tito 
was on intimate terms. On another occasion 
he was invited to the Rucellai Gardens, a 
place which later became famous for political 
conspiracies. He was welcomed with marked 
favor by Bernardo Rucellai, who " gave him 
a place between Lorenzo Tornabuoni and 
Giannozzo Pucci, both of them accomplished 
young members of the Medicean party. Ber- 
nardo Rucellai, who married the sister of 
Lorenzo the Magnificent, was a merchant of 
vast wealth. The gardens after the death 
of Lorenzo were the meeting place of the 
Platonic Academy, founded by Cosimo de' 
Medici, among the distinguished members 
of which were Leon Battista Alberta — ar- 
chitect, painter, musician, poet, mathemati- 
cian, and philosopher — who built the Palazzo 
Rucellai in 1460; Marsilio Ficino, who helped 
organize the Academy and was one of its lead- 
ing spirits; Angelo Poliziano, the greatest 
Italian poet of his day, and Pico della Mi- 
randola, a young man who gave up the en- 
joyments of society, which his wealth and 

187 



GEORGE ELIOT 

noble birth made possible, to devote himself 
to scholarship. Of the company whom Tito 
met, Lorenzo Tornabuoni, Giannozzo Pucci, 
and Niccolo Ridolfi were beheaded in the 
Bargello, with Bernardo del Nero, in 1497. 

When Savonarola was at the height of his 
popularity, the Duomo was crowded daily by 
busy Florentine citizens of all classes of so- 
ciety, drawn irresistibly by the fascination of 
his eloquence and by the subtle power of his 
prophetic vision. George Eliot gives us an 
excellent opportunity to meet some of these 
people as the crowd is pouring from the 
cathedral into the Piazza del Duomo, on the 
day of the entry into Florence of Charles 
VIII. Among them is a certain hot-headed 
individual, Francesco Valori, who at the time 
of the expulsion of Piero de' Medici had dis- 
tinguished himself by leading a mob which 
sacked the Casa Medici and burned the houses 
of two of Piero's ministers. He became the 
leader of the frateschi, or supporters of the 
Frate, and was elected Gonfalonier in Jan- 
uary, 1497. It was during his term of office 
that the burning of the vanities took place, 
and it was due to the violence of his hatred 
that the sentence of death against Bernardo 

138 



ROMOLA 

del Nero and his associates was voted, con- 
trary to all law and reason. His public career 
ended as it had begun, in the violence of a 
mob. During the attack on San Marco he 
sought to escape, but was cut to pieces by 
the Tornabuoni and Bidolfi families, who 
thus avenged the death of their relatives. 

Pagolo Antonio Soderini, also a supporter 
of Savonarola, was a citizen of a different 
type. After the departure of the French 
King he co-operated with the Frate to secure 
the adoption of a new constitution, contain- 
ing important measures of reform. 

Piero Capponi, whose face was conspicu- 
ous in this multitude, was a soldier, " a brave 
undoctrinal lover of a sober republican lib- 
erty, who preferred fighting to arguing and 
had no particular reasons for thinking any 
ideas false that kept out the Medici and made 
room for public spirit." He saved the dig- 
nity of Florence a few days later, when 
Charles VIII undertook to assume the at- 
titude of a conqueror and demanded conces- 
sions which were insulting. Finding that the 
commissioners were not disposed to submit, 
Charles angrily declared that if they did not 
accept his terms he would cause his trumpets 

139 



GEORGE ELIOT 

to be sounded. The brave Piero Capponi 
sprang to his feet, tore the papers to pieces, 
and declared, " If you sound your trumpets, 
we will ring our bells." Charles saw the 
point, and, not caring to have the streets of 
Florence filled with armed citizens determined 
upon his expulsion, materially modified his 
demands. 

In the crowd was Fra Bartolommeo, as 
he later came to be known, a painter of 
great fame, who had become an ardent dis- 
ciple of Savonarola. He cast all his studies 
from the nude into the bonfire of vanities and 
assisted in the defense of San Marco. As- 
suming the vows of a Dominican monk, he 
discontinued painting for some years, but 
was induced to resume, and lived to complete 
some important works. Another disciple 
was Girolamo Benevieni, a poet and pupil of 
Ficino, who wrote verses for the children to 
sing when, by direction of the Frate, they 
were taught to march in religious processions 
through the streets of the city. Pico della 
Mirandola is also mentioned in this connec- 
tion — a noble young man, who, having dis- 
tributed his wealth to the poor, died on this 
the day of the entry of Charles VIII. 

140 



ROMOLA 

Among the opponents of Savonarola whose 
faces were seen in the Piazza on that day was 
Dolfo Spini, the leader of the Compagnacci, 
or Bad Companions, who were bent on the 
destruction of the Friar. He is represented 
as entering into some infamous plots with 
Tito. A vicious, unscrupulous man, he had 
several times attempted the murder of 
Savonarola, which he finally accomplished 
as one of the seventeen commissioners ap- 
pointed to conduct the trial. With shame- 
less disregard of the law and with cruel tor- 
tures, the great priest was caused to make 
a " confession," for which he was hanged and 
burned. A certain notary, Ser Cecconi, 
through whose betrayal Tito's final ruin is 
accomplished, was employed to take down 
the answers of Savonarola while his inquisi- 
tors broke his delicate and sensitive body 
upon the rack. Cecconi is said to have re- 
marked, " If no case exists, one must be 
invented. " 

So, throughout the most perfect historical 
novel ever written, the great author keeps 
the reader constantly in touch with the 
Florentine society of the period. Romola 
herself is fictitious, but belongs to an historic 

141 



GEORGE ELIOT 

family. Tito is an original creation, but a 
type of the Florentine politician and adven- 
turer. All the rest, excepting only Baldas- 
sarre, Tessa, and some of the lower classes, 
are real characters. Even Niccolo Caparra, 
the iron-worker, from whom Tito buys his 
coat of mail, was a well-known character of 
his time and often an " unconscious model 
for Domenico Ghirlandajo." A specimen of 
his work in wrought-iron may be seen to-day 
on the corner of the Strozzi Palace in Flor- 
ence. His name " Caparra," meaning " ear- 
nest money," was given because of his habit 
of compelling payment in advance — a rule 
which he did not break in dealing with Tito. 

The achievement of greatest historical value 
in this romance is the dramatic presentation 
of the true character of Savonarola. It is 
the man who interests us, and Savonarola is 
made to stand forth, a man among men, 
under a light which enables us to read his 
inmost convictions and form a true concep- 
tion both of his strength and his weak- 
ness. This purpose is skillfully accomplished 
through his contact with Romola. 

The first meeting took place in the chap- 
ter-house of San Marco, where Romola had 

142 




Wrought-Iron Work by Niccolo Caparra 



ROMOLA 

gone to meet her dying brother, a Dominican 
monk. There was an irreconcilable differ- 
ence between the two. Dino (known as Fra 
Luca) had forsaken his home and nearly- 
broken the heart of his blind old father, be- 
cause he had heard the call of religion, de- 
manding that he " live with his fellow beings 
only as human souls related to the eternal 
unseen life." Romola had been faithful to 
her father, unselfishly serving him in his old 
age. " The Church, to her mind, belonged 
to that actual life of the mixed multitude 
from which they had always lived apart, and 
she had no ideas that could render her 
brother's course an object of any other feel- 
ing than incurious, indignant contempt." 
Dino sought to reveal to her a vision, from 
which Romola's mind recoiled. At this junc- 
ture another monk entered. 

" ' Kneel, my daughter, for the Angel of Death 
is present, and waits while the message of heaven 
is delivered; bend thy pride before it is bent for 
thee by a yoke of iron,' said a strong rich voice, 
startlingly in contrast with Fra Luca's. The tone 
was not that of imperious command, but of quiet 
self-possession and assurance of the right, blended 
with benignity." 

143 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Romola, " vibrating to the sound," looked 
round at the figure. 

" There was the high arched nose, the prominent 
under lip, the coronet of thick dark hair above the 
brow, all seeming to tell of energy and passion; 
there were the blue-gray eyes, shining mildly under 
auburn eyelashes, seeming, like the hands, to tell 
of acute sensitiveness. Romola felt certain they 
were the features of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, the 
prior of San Marco, whom she had thought of as 
more offensive than other monks because he was 
more noisy. Her rebellion was rising against the 
first impression, which had almost forced her to 
bend her knees. 

" ' Kneel, my daughter,' the penetrating voice 
said again ; t the pride of the body is a barrier 
against the gifts that purify the soul.' 

" He was looking at her with mild fixedness 
while he spoke, and again she felt that subtle mys- 
terious influence of a personality by which it has 
been given to some rare men to move their 
fellows." 

Romola felt the power of this mysterious 
influence two years later under circumstances 
which proved to be the turning-point in her 
life. By this time she had partially realized 
the baseness of Tito and had left her home, 

144 



ROMOLA 

determined never to return. Beyond the city 
walls, feeling a new sense of freedom, she 
sat down to rest by the wayside. Her reverie 
was suddenly interrupted by the same voice 
she had heard in the cloister of San Marco, 
saying, " You are fleeing from Florence in 
disguise. I have a command from God to 
stop you. You are not permitted to flee." 
Romola was angry, and demanded to know 
by what right the monk sought to dictate 
her actions; to which Savonarola replied 
calmly: "It is the truth that commands you, 
and you cannot escape it. Either you must 
obey it and it will lead you, or you must 
disobey it and it will hang on you with the 
weight of a chain which you will drag for- 
ever. But you will obey it, my daughter." 
Romola started up in anger, but Fra Giro- 
lamo's calm glance gave her a new impres- 
sioti which caused her anger to sink ashamed 
as something irrelevant. " The source of the 
impression his glance produced on Romola 
was the sense it conveyed to her of interest in 
her and care for her apart from any personal 
feeling. It was the first time she had encoun- 
tered a gaze in which simple human fellowship 
expressed itself as a strongly felt bond." 

145 



GEORGE ELIOT 

The colloquy which follows is dramatic 
in the extreme. Savonarola's words are a 
trumpet call to duty. Romola learns that 
she cannot choose her duties. She may choose 
to neglect them, but her reward will be only 
bitter herbs. She learns that " the higher 
life begins for us when we renounce our own 
will to bow before a Divine law," and that 
this renunciation is " the portal of wisdom 
and freedom and blessedness." She realizes 
for the first time her duty to humanity. The 
sick, the sorrowing, and the hungry of her 
native city need her pity and ministering 
care. Savonarola's words, " Live for Flor- 
ence — for your own people, whom God is 
preparing to bless the earth," ring in her ears 
until she feels subdued by the sense of some- 
thing unspeakably great to which she is being 
called by a strong being who has roused a 
new strength within herself. 

In this stirring passage George Eliot has 
revealed the secret of Savonarola's marvel- 
ous power. She has in no less degree re- 
vealed her own ideas of duty, of charity, and 
of the regenerating power of the Christian 
religion. Savonarola is made to say: 



146 



ROMOLA 



<c 



You are a pagan; you have been taught to 
say, ' I am as the wise men who lived before the 
time when the Jew of Nazareth was crucified.' And 
that is your wisdom! To be as the dead whose 
eyes are closed and whose ear is deaf to the work 
of God that has been since their time. What has 
your dead wisdom done for you, my daughter? It 
has left you without a heart for the neighbors 
among whom you dwell, without care for the great 
work by which Florence is to be regenerated and 
the world made holy; it has left you without a 
share in the Divine life which quenches the sense 
of suffering self in the ardors of an ever-growing 
love." 

As a result of this experience with Savona- 
rola, Romola returned to Florence to find a 
new joy in ministering to the needy. She 
became a " visible Madonna " to the people 
and won their love and reverence. The true 
nobility of her character does not appear until 
it has been quickened into life by the teach- 
ings of Savonarola. Romola " entered into 
communion with the Church, because in this 
way she had found an immediate satisfaction 
for moral needs which all the previous cul- 
ture and experience of her life had left 
hungering." 

147 



GEORGE ELIOT 

But Romola's trust in the great Frate was 
destined to be severely shaken. When Ber- 
nardo del Nero was on trial, he was entitled 
to the Right of Appeal under a law which 
Savonarola had been instrumental in secur- 
ing. But the bitter enmity of Francesco 
Valori denied this right. Romola goes to 
San Marco once more to appeal to Savona- 
rola. The friar has political reasons for 
denying the appeal, and answers the plead- 
ing of Romola with evasion. What he calls 
perplexity seems to her sophistry and double- 
ness. Roused to bitter indignation, she ex- 
claims, " Take care, father, lest your ene- 
mies have some reason when they say that 
in your visions of what will further God's 
Kingdom you see only what will strengthen 
your own party." Savonarola stoutly main- 
tains that the cause of his party is the cause 
of God's Kingdom; to which Romola pas- 
sionately replies: " I do not believe it! God's 
Kingdom is something wider — else, let me 
stand outside it with the beings that I love." 

And here is the revelation of Savonarola's 
weakness. But in spite of it he had taught 
Romola, as he taught the world, a great les- 
son. In the Epilogue Romola, speaking to 

148 



ROMOLA 

Lillo, — Tito's child, but not her own, — 
says: 

" And there is Fra Girolamo — you know why 
I keep to-morrow sacred; he had the greatness 
which belongs to a life spent in struggling against 
powerful wrong and in trying to raise men to the 
highest deeds they are capable of. And so, my 
Lillo, if you mean to act nobly and seek to know 
the best things God has put within the reach of 
men, you must learn to fix your mind on that end, 
and not on what will happen to you because of 
it, and remember if you were to choose something 
lower, and make it the rule of your life to seek 
your own pleasure and escape from what is dis- 
agreeable, calamity might come j ust the same ; and 
it would be calamity falling on a base mind, which 
is the one form of sorrow that has no balm in it, 
and that may well make a man say, * It would have 
been better for me if I had never been born.' " 

This is the lesson which Romola has learned 
from Savonarola, to teach which is the great 
moral purpose of this truly great book. The 
infinite labor with which George Eliot studied 
every detail of Savonarola's environment and 
every phase of his character can scarcely be 
realized, even when we read the long list of 
very long books which she read and re-read 

149 



GEORGE ELIOT 

during the two most difficult years of her 
life. A character drawn under such condi- 
tions naturally differed from those which 
seemingly sprang into being of their own 
accord when the enchantress lifted her magic 
wand and commanded Adam Bede and 
Dinah Morris and all the Tullivers to ap- 
pear. This laborious but necessary study 
explains the criticism of " Romola " so often 
heard, namely, its apparent want of " natu- 
ralness." Dante Gabriel Rossetti declared 
that the Florentine contemporaries of Fra 
Girolamo seemed to him nineteenth century 
men and women dressed up in the costumes 
of the fifteenth, while others have insisted, 
whether correctly or not, that Romola is an 
Englishwoman and a Puritan, but not an 
Italian. Yet those who look for originality 
see in this book some of the author's great- 
est work, and one of the critics of this class 
has said that, " in the conception of Tito, 
George Eliot has surpassed herself, and in 
all literature there is no delineation of a char- 
acter surpassing this." 

" Romola " was the first book in which the 
author subordinated artistic effect to spiritual 
and ethical teaching. A higher purpose pre- 

150 




o 
OS 
< 

o 
> 

< 

o 

z 
o 

H 

P 

y 

a 
H 



E 

a 



ROMOLA 

vailed than the mere desire to write a correct 
historical novel. She was now fully conscious 
of her powers as a novelist, and well aware 
of the possibilities of the novel as a vehicle 
for conveying to the public her views on the 
philosophical and ethical problems of life. 

Her favorite topic, that sin is its own pun- 
ishment from which the guilty have no es- 
cape, is fully developed in the career of the 
brilliant Tito, whose lying hypocrisy, cruel 
selfishness, and easy-going rascality lead in- 
evitably to exposure and ignominious death. 

" Romola " is an intensely interesting pic- 
ture of the real life of Florence in the period 
of the Renaissance; it is an impressive por- 
trait of the greatest moral reformer of the 
fifteenth century, and it is a lofty presenta- 
tion of great moral truths so dramatically 
presented as to make a profound impression. 



151 



FELIX HOLT 



FELIX HOLT 

GEORGE ELIOT was glad to get back 
to England after delving so painfully 
among the musty archives of Floren- 
tine libraries in the search for what was only 
an artificial stage-setting, after all; and, hav- 
ing returned to her native land, she never 
again deserted it. " Felix Holt " seems to 
emphasize her keen delight in the home- 
coming, for its introduction is a charming de- 
scription of rural England in the days when 
" the glory had not yet departed from the old 
coach-roads "; when " the great roadside inns 
were still brilliant with well-polished tank- 
ards, the smiling glances of pretty bar-maids 
and the repartees of jocose ostlers." In those 
days of slow-going stagecoaches " the happy 
outside passenger seated on the box from the 
dawn to the gloaming gathered enough stories 
of English life, enough of English labors in 
town and country, enough aspects of earth 
and sky, to make episodes for a modern 
Odyssey." 

Any one who has made the journey 

155 



GEORGE ELIOT 

"through that central plain, watered at one 
extremity by the Avon, at the other by the 
Trent," will agree with George Eliot that it 
is " worth the journey only to see those hedge- 
rows, the liberal homes of unmarketable 
beauty — of the purple-blossomed ruby- 
berried nightshade, of the wild convolvulus 
climbing and spreading in tendriled strength 
till it made a great curtain of pale-green 
hearts and white trumpets, of the many-tubed 
honeysuckle which in its most delicate fra- 
grance hid a charm more subtle and penetrat- 
ing than beauty." 

Such word-painting as this never came out 
of ancient documents ; it was the spontaneous 
outburst of one who had lived amidst such 
scenes all her life and never ceased to love 
them, 

/ When George Eliot was a girl of thirteen, 
she was sent to Coventry to the school kept 
by Mary and Rebecca Franklin. These well- 
educated and highly cultivated ladies were the 
daughters of the Rev. Francis Franklin, a 
Baptist minister, who was the pastor of the 
Cow Lane Chapel in Coventry for fifty- 
four years. /This remarkable meeting-house 
seemed to possess unusual attractiveness to its 

156 




Rev. Francis Franklin 
The prototype of " Rev. Rufus Lyon 



FELIX HOLT 

ministers, for the predecessor of Mr. Frank- 
lin, the Rev. John Butterworth, held the post 
for fifty years. The Chapel still remains, 
standing close by the old Ford Hospital, a 
quaint relic of Elizabethan architecture. It 
has greatly changed since the days when 
George Eliot attended church within its walls. 
The old high-backed pews have disappeared 
and a new floor has been inserted, dividing it 
into an upper and a lower room. 

'The home of the minister may still be 
seen in the chapel yard. It is described in 
41 Felix Holt " as the home of the Rev. Ru- 
fus Lyon, and no doubt George Eliot had 
in mind the Rev. Francis Franklin in writ- 
ing of the eccentric but lovable dissenting 
ministej^ Mr. Franklin's grandson, who 
still lives in Coventry, told the writer that 
George Eliot must have meant his grand- 
father when she pictured Rufus Lyon, " al- 
though," he said, " my grandfather had blue 
eyes, and not brown, as she describes him." 
" He had a habit of walking about with 
his hands clasped behind him, an attitude 
in which his body seemed to bear about the 
same proportion to his head as the lower part 
of a stone Hermes bears to the carven image 

157 



GEORGE ELIOT 

that crowns it." Everybody thought him " a 
very odd-looking rusty old man • . . and to 
many respectable Church people, old Lyon's 
little legs and large head seemed to make Dis- 
sent additionally preposterous." A lady who 
remembered him well recalls these very char- 
acteristics in Mr. Franklin. 
/ George Eliot owed much to this old gentle- 
f man. From him and his daughters she im- 
bibed those ideas of evangelicism which en- 
tered so largely into many of her novels^ She 
never joined the Baptists, but she adopted 
their religious views with the greatest enthu- 
siasm, and when a girl in school was a frequent 
leader of prayer meetings. 

This experience, though short-lived, gave 
her a profound sympathy for those who pos- 
sess intense religious convictions, which never 
left her, in spite of all the troublesome intel- 
lectual doubts of her later vears. It enabled 
her to write with genuine feeling the beauti- 
ful sermon in " Adam Bede ' which Dinah 
Morris preached on the village green and to 
paint in glowing colors the heroic self-sacri- 
fice of that superb dissenter Mr. Tryan and 
the genuine repentance and growth in Chris- 
tian life of Janet Dempster. 

158 



FELIX HOLT 

Some writers have seen in Esther Lyon 
certain suggestions of George Eliot herself. 
Thus it is said of Esther, "the less serious 
observed that she had too many airs and 
graces, and held her head much too high." It 
is a matter of record that Mary Ann Evans, 
when a girl at the Misses Franklin's school, 
unconsciously held herself aloof from the 
other girls, one of whom afterwards said, 
" Her school fellows loved her as much as 
they could venture to love one whom they felt 
to be immeasurably superior to themselves." 
Esther was fond of her father and recognized 
the purity of his character. George Eliot 
was devoted to her father, for whom she had 
the highest admiration. Esther, though of 
humble birth, had a mind that "had fixed 
itself habitually on the signs and luxuries of 
ladyhood, for which she had the keenest per- 
ception." And when she went to live at 
Transome Court, she experienced little diffi- 
culty in fitting herself to the new surround- 
ings. Mary Ann Evans's frequent visits with 
her father to the magnificent Arbury Estate 
familiarized her with the " signs and luxuries 
of ladyhood," and no doubt some of Esther's 
day dreams may have been her own. She 

159 



GEORGE ELIOT 

certainly was able to see the environment of, 
aristocracy from Esther's point of view, 
yThere is one other touch of personal expe- 
dience in " Felix Holt " which throws a strong 
light upon the depth of George Eliot's earli- 
est impressions and the marvelous memory 
which enabled her to recall them so vividly in 
later years. 

In 1832, the same year in which she went 
to Coventry, Mary Ann Evans, then a girl of 
thirteen, witnessed a riot in the market-place 
in Nuneaton. It was on the occasion of a 
closely contested election. Voters were for- 
cibly interfered with, and the magistrates, un- 
able to cope with the disturbing elements, 
called to their aid a military force. The 
tumult increased, and the Riot Act was read 
from the windows of the Newdegate Arms. 
One life was lost and several persons were 
seriously injured. This incident was the 
basis of the riot scene in " Felix Holt," writ- 
ten thirty-three years later. Many of the 
details were no doubt described from personal, 
recollection of that exciting event. 

" Felix Holt " is the author's one political 
novel. She put herself into it thoroughly and 
earnestly in the effort to make clear her 

160 



FELIX HOLT 

views upon certain principles of government. 
These are summarized in the speech of Felix 
when he declares: * I Tl tell you what 's the 
greatest power under heaven, and that is pub- 
lic opinion — the ruling belief in society about 
what is right and what is wrong, what is hon- 
orable and what is shameful." He insists 
that allowing working men to vote will not 
help much until they are able to vote intelli- 
gently and soberly. He wants the working 
man to have power, but of the right kind. 
64 Ignorant power comes in the end to the 
same thing as wicked power; it makes mis- 
ery." Society itself must be made better be- 
fore the good expected from the Reform Bill 
can be realized. If ignorant or drunken men 
vote, unless society is reformed, their votes 
will be controlled by vicious men and so out- 
weigh the intelligent and sober votes. More 
intelligence and sobriety is the only remedy. 
The morals of society cannot be changed by 
legislation, but only by a steady upward 
growth in the character of mankind. 

The plot of " Felix Holt " is strong and 
well constructed, the novel differing in this 
respect from all the others. Some of the 
characters are among the author's best, nota- 

161 



GEORGE ELIOT 

bly Felix and Esther. On the whole, how- 
ever, they are evidently intended to be typi- 
cal, each standing for a particular class of 
society. This enables the author to accom- 
plish better the political purpose of the story, 
though it does not add to its attractiveness. 
Perhaps for this reason, but more probably 
for lack of interest in the political questions 
involved, " Felix Holt " has been the least 
popular of George Eliot's novels. 



162 



MIDDLEMARCH 



MIDDLEMARCH 

IN a letter to Alexander Main, the com- 
piler of a collection of George Eliot's 
" Sayings/' Mr. Lewes makes some strik- 
ing comments regarding the great author's 
work which may well serve as an introduction 
to the study of real life in " Middlemarch." 
The letter is as follows: 

5 Dec., 1872. 

My dear Main, — In return for your ever- 
welcome " screed " I send you a rare sample of 
moral judgment. A lady known to Mrs. Lewes 
declared to another lady that she could n't get to 
sleep at night thinking of " poor Bulstrode and 
all that had fallen on him, after sitting up to tend 
on that wretch. . . . And I don't believe it was 
the brandy that killed him. . . . Well, now Bul- 
strode has nothing left but Christ! " 

Isn't this just the sort of touch George Eliot 
would have invented? To me it is strangely sig- 
nificant, first of the profoundly real impression the 
book makes, second of the profoundly immoral 
teaching that passes for religion. Here is a pious 
woman so utterly blinded by the fact of Bulstrode's 

165 



GEORGE ELIOT 

piety that it prevents her seeing what Bulstrode 
himself sees, the guilt which that piety has not 
prevented. In real life, when motives are hidden 
and deeds admit of many explanations, we would 
expect the mere fact of piety to lead judgment 
astray, and make people seek for any but a crimi- 
nal explanation; but here we see that in the face 
of the clearest evidence, and the sinner's own con- 
fession, the guilt 's not believed in ! 

Curiously enough, an orthodox West End 
preacher, the Rev. Stanley Leather, quoted this 
very picture of Bulstrode (in his sermon on Hosea) 
as a striking illustration of the " true prophetic 
spirit." 

Among the pleasant tidings that have reached 
Mrs. Lewes she places foremost the declaration of 
Sir James Paget, that not only is there no medi- 
cal detail which is erroneous, but that in some 
respects the insight into medical life is so sur- 
prisingly deep that he could not understand how 
the author had not had some direct personal ex- 
perience—it seemed to him that there must have 
been a biographical foundation for Lydgate's 
career. When I told him that she had never even 
known a surgeon intimately, and had no acquaint- 
ance in any degree resembling Lydgate, he said it 
was like " assisting at the Creation — a universe 
formed out of nothing ! " 

While the medical men are surprised at the 

166 



MIDDLEMARCH 

medical fidelity, the lawyers are expressing tht 
astonishment at the ingenuity and correctness i 
the law. And all of us wonder at the insight into 
soul ! 

Dorothea is now busily engaged in going through 
the collections for that " Key of all Psychologies " 
which hangs over her husband. How many an 
" excursus on Crete " she will have to omit one 
shudders to think. 

If she knew I was writing to you, she would send 
some loving message — imagine it sent and 
Believe ever in 

Yours truly, 

G. H. Lewes. 

Nothing could emphasize more strongly 
the intensely realistic character of George 
Eliot's work than the comment of the good 
lady who "couldn't get to sleep at night 
thinking of poor Bulstrode." This individ- 
ual, who never existed outside the author's 
imagination, nevertheless stands out with 
such startling reality as to arouse the human 
sympathy of a pious woman to such an extent 
as to cause her to forget entirely the author's 
purpose in creating such a character. Lyd- 
gate, too, has so much individuality as to 
cause medical men to believe there must have 

167 



GEORGE ELIOT 

been some biographical foundation for his 
career. The u insight into medical life n was 
the direct result of painstaking and careful 
study. In the Journal of September 10, 
1869, we find this note: 

" 1 have achieved little during the last week ex- 
cept reading on medical subj ects — Encyclopaedia 
about the Medical Colleges, ' Cullen's Life/ Rus- 
sell's ' Heroes of Medicine,' etc." 

In like manner, George Eliot's knowl- 
edge of law and social problems was gained 
by laborious reading. Legal questions were 
submitted to a friend who stood high in the 
practice of law, to " guard against errors." 
It was to such conscientious preparation as 
this, coupled with the " insight into soul w 
which was the author's natural gift, that 
" Middlemarch " owes its strength as a por- 
trayal of English life in the middle of the 
nineteenth century. It is a novel without a 
plot, but it needs none. All the characters 
possess a strong individuality, and are so 
vividly painted that they leave a lasting im- 
pression as of people we have known. Its 
purpose is to show how the social conditions 
of modern times operate to balk the lofty as- 

168 



MIDDLEMARCH 

pirations and well-meant endeavors of those 
whose ideals are above the ordinary. 

Dorothea yearns to be of service to the 
world, first by projecting model houses which 
are never built, and later by marrying a faded 
old scholar in the hope of assisting him in the 
accomplishment of some great service to man- 
kind. Mr. Casaubon's physical attributes 
may be inferred from the quotation from 
Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy " which 
heads the chapter dealing with his proposal 
of marriage, " Hard students are commonly 
troubled with gowts, catarrhs, rheums, ca- 
chexia, bradyspepsia, bad eyes, stone and col- 
lick, crudities, oppilations, vertigo, winds, 
consumption, and all such diseases as come by 
overmuch sitting: they are most part lean, 
dry, ill-coloured — and all through immod- 
erate pains and extraordinary studies." Sir 
James Chettam remarked, " He has got no 
good red blood in his body," to which Mrs. 
Cadwallader replied, " No. Somebody put 
a drop under a magnifying glass, and it was 
all semicolons and parentheses." 

Dorothea soon found that she could be of 
little service to her great scholar, and later 
made the still worse discovery that he was 

169 



GEORGE ELIOT 

likely to be of little or no sendee to the world. 
His great work, the " Key to all Mytholo- 
gies," was never published, and, sad to say, 
the world never missed it. After Casaubon's 
death Dorothea abandoned the great aspira- 
tions of her youth, but proved herself a real 
woman, by giving up the legacy left by her 
husband to marry a young man whom she 

reallv loved. 

■ 

Mr. Lewes, in the letter above quoted, 
humorously compares himself to Casaubon 
and refers to his wife as Dorothea. But 
Lewes was not Casaubon, nor was he the 
original of Will Ladislaw, as some have as- 
serted. Casaubon was a mouldy old antique 
whose researches were of no earthly use. 
Lewes was a scholar of the highest intellec- 
tual attainments. Casaubon and Dorothea 
were ill-mated and consequently unhappy. 
Mr. Lewes and George Eliot were well 
matched, and no couple could have been more 

devotedlv attached to one another. 

■ 

In her Journal of Xovember 28, 1860, Mrs. 
Lewes wrote, ' My cup is full of blessings ; 
my home is bright and warm with love and 
tenderness." In a letter to Alexander Main 
soon after the completion of " Middlemarch ' 

170 



MIDDLEMARCH 

she wrote, " We are in our usual train of 
home procedures — thinking, reading, talk- 
ing much en tete-a-tete, and hoping that 
there are many others in this world who are 
as happy as we are." In another letter to the 
same correspondent she says : " My dear hus- 
band . . . does everything for me that can 
be done by proxy. I think you can divine 
something of his — not superhuman but — 
exquisitely human goodness." All the corre- 
spondence of both Mr. and Mrs. Lewes re- 
flects the perfect concord of their lives. 
< George Eliot did not mean Dorothea to be 
a portrait of herself, though she put herself 
into the character just as she did with Esther 
Lyon and Romola, and even with some of 
the male characters, as Felix Holt and Daniel 
Deronda, all of whom possessed some of her 
own ideals. She has even stated, half humor- 
ously, that something of Casaubon's make-up 
was suggested by her own inmost feelings. 
Yet though Dorothea is not George Eliot 
and Will Ladislaw is not Mr. Lewes, one 
can almost fancy the following conversation 
as having taken place between the two in real 
life: 



171 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Dorothea. " I have no longings. I mean for 
myself. Except that I should like not to have so 
much more than my share without doing anything 
for others. But I have a belief of my own and it 
comforts me." 

Ladislaw. " What is that? " 

Dorothea. " That by desiring what is perfectly 
good, even when we don't quite know what it is and 
cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine 
power against evil — widening the skirts of light 
and making the struggle with darkness narrower." 

Ladislaw. " That is a beautiful mysticism — it 
is a — " 

Dorothea. " Please not to call it by any name. 
You will say it is Persian or something else geo- 
graphical. It is my life. I have found it out and 
cannot part with it. I have always been finding 
out my religion since I was a little girl. I used 
to pray so much — now I hardly ever pray. I try 
not to have desires merely for myself, because they 
may not be good for others and I have too much 
already." 

Ladislaw. " God bless you for telling me ! " 

Dorothea. "What is your religion? I mean — 
not what you know about religion, but the belief 
that helps you most ? " 

Ladislaw. " To love what is good and beautiful 
when I see it. But I am a rebel: I don't feel 
bound, as you do, to submit to what I don't like." 

172 



MIDDLEMARCH 

Dorothea (smiling). "But if you like what is 
good, that comes to the same thing," 

Mr. Cross wrote of George Eliot : " It was 
often in her mind and on her lips that the only 
worthy end of all learning, of all science, of 
all life, in fact, is, that human beings should 
love one another better." 
y Dorothea's sister, Celia, is in many respects 
like George Eliot's sister, " Chrissy," and the 
author has admitted that she had Chrissy in 
mind in painting this character. But by far 
the most realistic person in " Middlemarch " 
is Caleb Garth, the intelligent and honest land 
agent " who was more anxious for his em- 
ployer's interest than his own." Caleb had 
just made a most satisfactory engagement 
with Bulstrode, which would enable him to 
realize some of his fondest dreams, and was 
highly elated. But he did not hesitate for an 
instant to give it up when the revelation of 
Bulstrode's dishonest career came to him. 

In this sterling sense of honor, in the re- 
spect which he commanded from his neigh- 
bors, and in his loving care for his family we 
see in Caleb Garth a final tribute of affection 
to the author's own father, Robert Evans — 

173 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Adam Bede and Mr. Hackit having been 
previous manifestations of the same respect 
and admiration. 

It is not possible to identify the town of 
Middlemarch with any known city — it is not 
described with sufficient accuracy for that. 
But in a general way it may be said to be in 
Warwickshire. There is, however, one bit of 
realism that illustrates the author's habit, 
exercised so frequently in the earlier novels, 
of dwelling fondly upon the memories of her 
childhood. It is in the chapter where Mr. 
Casaubon desires Dorothea to promise that 
in case of his death she will carry on the 
tedious and unprofitable task to which he has 
devoted his life. Dorothea hesitates, but 
agrees to meet her husband in the garden a 
little later. He goes out to the Yew-tree 
Walk. In half an hour Dorothea goes to find 
him and to give him her answer. She comes 
upon him sitting in the summer-house at the 
end of the walk, his arms resting upon a 
stone table. Dorothea cries, " Wake, dear, 
wake! I am come to answer." "But the 
silence in her husband's ear was never to be 
broken." 

In the home of the Rev. Frederic R. Evans* 

174 



MIDDLEMARCH 

in Bedworth, there is a little photograph of 
this same Yew-tree Walk and of the little 
summer-house at the end of it, taken many 
years ago in the garden of Griff House, when 
the place was kept in better repair than now; 
and in the garden of the rector's home, in 
a new summer-house built especially for it, 
may now be seen the identical stone table, 
carried away from Griff for safe keeping 
as a precious memento of the great author. 



175 



DANIEL DERONDA 



DANIEL DERONDA 

WHEN George Eliot was a young 
woman of twenty-three, she began 
a translation of Strauss's " Life of 
Jesus," a work which occupied her time for 
three years. As a part of the preparation for 
this laborious work, she taught herself He- 
brew. This was the beginning of a thorough 
study of the history and literature of the 
Jews which ultimately impelled her, thirty 
years later, to write a novel embodying the 
results of her research and her strong per- 
sonal views upon the subject. What these 
strong feelings were may be seen in a letter 
to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe dated Octo- 
ber 29, 1876: 

" As to the Jewish element in ' Deronda,' I ex- 
pected from first to last, in writing it, that it 
would create much stronger resistance, and even 
repulsion, than it has actually met with. But pre- 
cisely because I felt that the usual attitude of 

179 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Christians towards Jews is — I hardly know 
whether to say more impious or more stupid, when 
viewed in the light of their professed principles, 
I therefore felt urged to treat Jews with such 
sympathy and understanding as my nature and 
knowledge could attain to. Moreover, not only 
towards the Jews, but towards all oriental peoples 
with whom we English come in contact, a spirit 
of arrogance and contemptuous dictatorialness is 
observable which has become a national disgrace 
to us. There is nothing I should care more to do, 
if it were possible, than to rouse the imagination 
of men and women to a vision of human claims in 
those races of their fellow men who most differ 
from them in customs and beliefs. But toward 
the Hebrews we Western people, who have been 
reared in Christianity, have a peculiar debt, and, 
whether we acknowledge it or not, a peculiar 
thoroughness of fellowship in religious and moral 
sentiment. Can anything be more disgusting than 
to hear people called ' educated ' making small 
jokes about eating ham, and showing themselves 
empty of any real knowledge as to the relation of 
their own social and religious life to the history 
of the people they think themselves witty in in- 
sulting. They hardly know that Christ was a 
Jew. And I find men, educated, supposing that 
Christ spoke Greek. To my feeling this deadness 
to the history that has prepared half our world 

180 



DANIEL DERONDA 

for us, this inability to find interest in any form 
of life that is not clad in the same coat-tails and 
flounces as our own, lies very close to the worst 
kind of irreligion. The best that can be said of 
it is that it is a sign of the intellectual narrowness 
— in plain English, the stupidity — which is still 
the average mark of our culture. 



55 



These are vigorous words, and they show 
the author's earnest purpose in writing 
"Daniel Deronda." 

The novel is really two stories — one of 
English social life with all the various types 
and conditions seen in " Middlemarch " and 
" Felix Holt," and the other containing some- 
thing quite different from anything else in 
the author's work, the social and religious 
life of the Jewish people. The contrasting 
of one with the other was the author's method 
of setting forth her own views, as shown by 
the letter to Mrs. Stowe. Such a presenta- 
tion could not fail to afford the utmost satis- 
faction to the Jewish people, and their ex- 
pressions of delight gave George Eliot " more 
heartfelt joy," as she said, " than anything 
else since she became an author." 

One may search in vain in "Daniel De- 

181 



GEORGE ELIOT 

ronda " for those delightfully humorous epi- 
sodes which enliven the pages of " Adam 
Bede," " The Mill on the Floss," and " Silas 
Marner." There are no characters like Mrs. 
Poyser with her sharp tongue and flashing 
wit; no Tullivers to make you laugh at their 
eccentricities in spite of your sympathy for 
their misfortunes; no scenes like that in 
the Rainbow when the discussion was upon 
the possibility of smelling " ghos'es." One 
is not introduced to real people, though 
there are some characters — notably, Gwen- 
dolen — who are drawn with the skill of a 
true artist. 

All the elements that charm the imagina- 
tion of the reader in the earlier books are here 
subordinated to the underlying purpose of the 
novel — the presentation of the life, the his- 
tory, and the future of the Jewish race in 
what the author believes to be their proper 
colors. 

The club of working men, known as " The 
Philosophers," to which Daniel Deronda is 
introduced by Mordecai, is patterned after 
a similar club which Mr. Lewes describes. 
When nineteen years old, he became a mem- 
ber of a society of " philosophers " of a mis- 

182 



DANIEL DERONDA 

cellaneous character, who met regularly in the 
parlor of a small tavern in London. He was 
particularly fascinated by a Jew named 
Cohen, a watchmaker by trade, a man of 
" great calm intellect " and a profound stu- 
dent of the works of Spinoza. To this man 
Lewes owed his first introduction to the 
Hebrew philosopher, in whose writings he 
became deeply interested. After his union 
with George Eliot, no doubt the study of 
Hebrew philosophy and literature was a 
mutually congenial one in their household. 
Lewes's relation to Cohen was somewhat sim- 
ilar to that of Deronda to Mordecai. 

The first chapter of the book was based 
upon a personal experience which George 
Eliot describes in a letter from Homburg to 
Mr. John Blackwood. Referring to the 
gambling places, she says, " The saddest 
thmg to be witnessed is the play of a young 
lady, who is only twenty-six years old, and 
is completely in the grasp of this mean, 
money-making demon. It made me cry to 
see her young fresh face among the hags and 
brutally stupid men around her." In another 
letter she further shows the impression made 
upon her mind by the place: 

183 



GEORGE ELIOT 

" The sight of the dull faces bending round the 
gaming tables, the raking up of the money, and 
the flinging of the coins toward the winners by the 
hard-faced croupiers, the hateful, hideous women 
staring at the board like stupid monomaniacs — 
all this seems to me the most abject presentation 
of mortals grasping after something called a good, 
that can be seen on the face of this little earth. 
Burglary is heroic compared with it. Hell is the 
only right name for such places." 

A cottage in the village of Shottermill, in 
Surrey, " where we have old prints for our 
dumb companions," is said to have suggested 
the home of the Meyricks, and George Eliot's 
friends at Coventry, Mrs. Bray and Miss 
Hennell, may have been in some slight de- 
gree in the author's mind when she drew the 
picture of the sisters of Hans Meyrick. But 
such suggestions are very remote. The truth 
is that real scenes and real persons had almost 
completely disappeared from George Eliot's 
writings. Her mind was too intent upon the 
great moral purpose of the book. She no 
longer needed such realism. She could create 
the characters necessary to her purpose. So 
much of her own views of life went into the 
making of Daniel that it is no wonder a great 

184 



DANIEL DERONDA 

critic has declared him to be a woman in 
disguise. On the other hand, Edwin P. 
Whipple has said that Daniel Deronda is 
" one of the noblest and most original char- 
acters among the heroes imagined by poets, 
dramatists, and novelists." 



185 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

TO appreciate the real life in the novels 
of George Eliot, one must know her 
own life. All her writing was sincere. 
So much of her own personality, her inmost 
thoughts, her secret longings and aspirations, 
have influenced the development of her plots 
and characters, that these can be fully under- 
stood only by readers who have been able to 
form a proper conception of the author's own 
mind and character. Moreover, a knowledge 
of her true personality begets a friendly sym- 
pathy through which her great genius shines 
with a softer and warmer glow. Such knowl- 
edge is peculiarly important in the case of 
George Eliot, who has suffered severely be- 
cause of a singular misconception of her true 
character. It is a fact, which may as well be 
recognized, that because of this misconcep- 
tion many good people have found themselves 
unable to read George Eliot's writings. To 
them it has seemed that a great, dark cloud, 
hovering over her personality, has obscured 

189 



GEORGE ELIOT 

the brilliancy of her genius. In the minds 
of many readers of the less discriminating 
kind there lurks a prejudice, a sort of inde- 
finable notion, that there was something 
wrong about the novelist, which inevitably 
spoils their appreciation of her marvelous 
productions. And even critics of the highest 
discernment have seemed strangely ignorant 
of the facts and have allowed themselves to be 
carried away into vigorous denunciations 
based upon false premises. 

The source of all the misconceptions is, of 
course, the union of George Eliot with George 
Henry Lewes. This admittedly irregular 
marriage has been represented as grossly 
immoral, an irreparable injury to an un- 
fortunate but innocent woman, a flagrant 
declaration of her disbelief in the sanctity 
of marriage, and an open expression of her 
preference for a relation which might be 
assumed or discarded at will. 

All such statements are not only false but 
cruelly unjust. Those who have been misled 
into believing them cannot be expected to 
enjoy the Wbrk of the great novelist, for 
their revolt against the alleged immorality 
would quench any feelings of enthusiasm for 

190 




George Henry Lewes 
From a portrait by Rudolph Lehmann 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

her literary genius. It is therefore a necessity 
to every reader of George Eliot that he learn 
to separate the truth from the falsehood, and 
to condemn what was wrong without wrongly 
condemning the author's entire life. 

It must be admitted that this marriage — 
for such it was in reality — was clearly illegal. 
Lewes had a wife then living, and a legal mar- 
riage was impossible. Under these circum- 
stances Mr. Lewes and Miss Evans decided 
to live together as husband and wife and to 
make the mere announcement of their deter- 
mination suffice in lieu of the usual ceremony. 
It was a deliberate defiance of the sacred laws 
which underlie all modern society. That 
George Eliot or anybody else should have the 
right to set aside such laws is an untenable 
proposition. That her action was ethically , 
wrong, that it was hurtful in its influence, and 
that it gave just ground for criticism, must 
be freely admitted. 

But when this much is said, our condemna- 
tion can go no further. An examination of 
the undisputed facts reveals many circum- 
stances which must mitigate the severity of 
our judgment. And these facts, taken in 
connection with the novelist's life, prove that 

191 



GEORGE ELIOT 

there was no immorality, no injury to an- 
other, and no scandalous notion regarding the 
marriage relation. On the contrary, her life 
was one of purity, kindness, and justice, and 
her ethical standards were unimpeachable. 

Marian Evans first went to London to 
take up her editorial duties in 1851. During 
the preceding decade Mr. Lewes had been liv- 
ing, with his young wife, in a very peculiar so- 
ciety. Several young couples were occupying 
a large house in Kensington on a sort of co- 
operative style of housekeeping. They were 
a fast set, far too intimate with one another, 
devoted solely to pleasure, and strongly in- 
clined to scoff at the teachings of religion. 
No considerations of ethics were allowed to 
interfere with personal gratification. The 
close association and freedom from restraint 
proved demoralizing. Lewes's wife deserted 
him and their three children, preferring the 
society of his most intimate friend and com- 
panion, who forsook his own wife. Lewes 
was lenient and took back his erring wife with 
full forgiveness. But her infatuation for the 
other man was too great, and she left her hus- 
band again, this time giving him to under- 
stand that her decision was final. Lewes, 

192 






GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

with three children to care for, found himself 
deserted by a faithless wife. By all the un- 
written laws of right and justice, he, as the 
victim of an irreparable injury, was morally 
free from obligation to the woman who had 
first wronged and then deserted him. Had 
he lived in the present time, he might have 
been legally freed, and the good name of the 
woman with whom he lived a life of true no- 
bility for twenty-four years would have re- 
mained untarnished. But in England at that 
time divorce was a luxury unattainable except 
by the very rich and influential. It would 
have required legal proceedings, involving 
enormous expense, to annul the previous mar- 
riage and a special act of Parliament to 
enable him to marry again. This would have 
cost thousands of pounds, and Lewes was 
a poor man. 

Thus, at the time of his first meeting with 
Miss Evans, George Lewes, though morally 
free, was hopelessly bound by legal ties to a 
woman who was then living as the wife of 
another man. His life had been a disap- 
pointment and great sorrow. The sympathy 
and support from some kindred soul, which 
he greatly needed, had been denied to him. 

193 



GEORGE ELIOT 

The responsibility for the care of the little 
children, whose mother had so heartlessly 
deserted them, weighed heavily upon him. 
The introduction to Marian Evans, brought 
about through Herbert Spencer, proved the 
turning-point in his experience. They were 
both contributors to the " Westminster Re- 
view." Lewes was a versatile genius who 
had already achieved a high reputation. He 
early manifested a strong interest in science. 
He took a course in medicine, giving especial 
attention to physiology and anatomy. He 
turned his thoughts to philosophy and became 
an enthusiastic student of Spinoza. He spent 
several years in Germany, devoting himself 
to a study of the language, literature, and phi- 
losophy of that country. At twenty-nine 
years of age he had published an extensive 
" History of Philosophy," which enjoyed a 
wide popularity and was translated into sev- 
eral languages. He was the author of a play, 
two novels, and a " Life of Robespierre," be- 
sides innumerable contributions to the leading 
magazines of the day. All this was before 
his meeting with Miss Evans. He is de- 
scribed as a charming companion, a wonder- 
ful story-teller, and one of the most brilliant 

194 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

wits in all the distinguished company of lit- 
erary men and philosophical thinkers with 
whom he was associated. 

George Eliot had become greatly inter- 
ested in the philosophical thought of the day. 
At twenty-five she had begun the translation 
of Strauss's " Life of Jesus." This led to 
other translations and important reviews. 
Soon after coming to London she had met 
Herbert Spencer and a number of writers 
representing the most advanced thought of 
the day. She was capable of conversing on 
terms of equality with all these men. In the 
brilliant Lewes she soon recognized a con- 
genial spirit whom she could not help liking. 
After three years of such association Miss 
Evans and Mr. Lewes found themselves irre- 
sistibly drawn toward one another by the 
bonds of common sympathies and interests. 
Marriage seemed mutually desirable. They 
were well fitted for a life together. They 
were both mature enough to know their own 
minds. Each needed the other to complete 
a life which required affectionate sympathy. 
Both recognized the fact that a legal marriage 
would be impossible. The great question then 
became, Should they defy a law which they 

195 



GEORGE ELIOT 

felt to be unjust, risk the alienation of their 
dearest relatives and friends, and invite social 
ostracism by declaring themselves to be hus- 
band and wife, relying for justification upon 
the fact that Mr. Lewes was clearly free in 
a moral if not a legal sense; or should they 
deny themselves the happiness and mutual 
support which both so strongly desired and 
which, as the event proved, would be so help- 
ful to both, in order that they might seem to 
sustain a law which narrowly denied freedom 
to the innocent victim of an unfortunate 
marriage? 

The one objection which appealed most 
strongly to the mind of Marian Evans was 
the question of the rights of the former wife. 
She made most careful inquiry and ascer- 
tained that the woman had voluntarily put 
herself out of consideration. No wrong to 
her could possibly exist. And when this point 
had been settled, Miss Evans consented to the 
union. 

Never for one moment did she regret her 
choice. She felt grieved for the loss of many 
dear friends, for the unkind criticisms, and, 
most of all, for the misrepresentation of her 
motives. But the marriage itself was a true 

196 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

one in all but the legal sense, as may be abun- 
dantly realized by any one who will read the 
many letters and extracts from her Journal, 
introduced by Mr, Cross in his admirable 
Biography. 

In a letter to Miss Hennell, referring to 
Mr. Lewes, she says, " The intense happiness 
of our union is derived in a high degree from 
the perfect freedom with which we each follow 
and declare our own impressions." In a 
letter to Charles L. Lewes she says, " Let 
us hope that we shall all — father and mother 
and sons — help one another with love." And 
in the Journal of March 25, 1865, we read: 
" Dear George is all activity, yet is in very 
frail health. How I worship his good humor, 
his good sense, his affectionate care for every 
one who has claims on him! That worship is 
my best life." 

Mr. Lewes's impressions may be gathered 
from an entry in his Journal of January 28, 
1859: 

" Walked along the Thames toward Kew to 
meet Herbert Spencer, who was to spend the day 
with us, and we chatted with him on matters per- 
sonal and philosophical. I owe him a debt of 
gratitude. My acquaintance with him was the 

197 



GEORGE ELIOT 

brightest ray in a very dreary, wasted period of 
my life. I had given up all ambition whatever, 
lived from hand to mouth, and thought the evil 
of each day sufficient. The stimulus of his intel- 
lect, especially during our long walks, roused my 
energy once more and revived my dormant love 
of science. ... I owe Spencer another and a 
deeper debt. It was through him that I learned 
to know Marian — to know her was to love her 
— and since then my life has been a new birth. 
To her I owe all my prosperity and happiness. 
God bless her! 55 

No one is more worthy of considerate at- 
tention on this subject than Mr. Cross, who 
sums up the matter as follows: 

" In forming a judgment on so momentous a 
question, it is, above all things, necessary to un- 
derstand what was actually undertaken, what was 
actually achieved, and, in my opinion, this can best 
be arrived at, not from any outside statement or 
arguments, but by consideration of the whole tenor 
of the life which follows, in the development of 
which Mr. Lewes' true character, as well as George 
Eliot's, will unfold itself. No words that any one 
else can write, no arguments any one else can 
use, will, I think, be so impressive as the life 
itself. 55 

198 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

George Eliot has replied with vigor to the 
many misrepresentations of her conduct. In 
a letter to her friend Mrs. Bray, written in 
1855, more than a year after the union, she 
says: 

" If there is any one action or relation of my 
life which is and always has been profoundly seri- 
ous, it is my relation to Mr. Lewes. . . . Light and 
easily broken ties are what I neither desire theo- 
retically nor could live for practically. Women 
who are satisfied with such ties do not act as I 
have done. That any unworldly, unsuperstitious 
person who is sufficiently acquainted with the reali- 
ties of life can pronounce my relations to Mr. 
Lewes immoral, I can only understand by remem- 
bering how subtle and complex are the influences 
that mold opinion. But I do remember this: and 
I indulge in no arrogant or uncharitable thoughts 
about those who condemn us, even though we might 
have expected a different verdict. From the ma- 
jority of persons, of course, we never looked for 
anything but condemnation. We are leading no 
life of self-indulgence, except indeed that, being 
happy in each other, we find everything easy. We 
are working hard to provide for others better than 
we provide for ourselves, and to fulfill every re- 
sponsibility that lies upon us. Levity and pride 
would not be a sufficient basis for that." 

199 



GEORGE ELIOT 

To another dear friend, Mrs. Peter Taylor, 
she wrote in 1861 : 

" For the last six years I have ceased to be 
6 Miss Evans ' for any one who has personal re- 
lations with me, having held myself under all the 
responsibilities of a married woman. I wish this 
to be distinctly understood; and when I tell you 
that we have a great boy of eighteen at home who 
calls me ' Mother,' as well as two other boys, al- 
most as tall, who write to me under the same name, 
you will understand that the point is not one of 
mere egotism or personal dignity, when I request 
that any one who has a regard for me will cease 
to speak of me by my maiden name. 



?? 



If these letters are not sufficient to reveal 
George Eliot's feeling regarding the sanc- 
tity of the marriage relation, we have only 
to turn to her novels for further light. 

In " Adam Bede " Dinah gives her final 
answer in these significant words: 

" ' Adam, 5 she said, ' it is a Divine Will. My 
soul is so knit to yours that it is but a divided 
life I live without you, and this moment, now you 
are with me, and I feel that our hearts are filled 
with the same love, I have a fullness of strength 
to bear and do our heavenly Father's will that 
I had lost before.' 

200 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

" Adam paused and looked into her sincere eyes. 

" ' Then we ? 11 never part any more, Dinah, till 
death parts us.' 

" And they kissed each other with a deep joy. 

" What greater thing is there for two human 
souls than to feel that they are joined for life — 
to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on 
each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other 
in all pain, to be one with each other in silent, 
unspeakable memories at the moment of the last 
parting ? " 

These words must have been written out of 
the author's own heart, for on the manuscript 
of the story thus beautifully brought to a close 
she wrote this inscription: 

" To my dear husband, George Henry Lewes, 
I give the MS. of a work which would never have 
been written but for the happiness which his love 
has conferred on my life." 

It is in " Romola," however, that we find 
the strongest sentiments regarding the invio- 
lability of the marriage vow. In the chapter 
where Romola is fleeing in disguise and is 
stopped by Savonarola, the monk is made to 
use these significant words: 

201 



GEORGE ELIOT 

" * You are not happy in your married life ; but 
I am not a confessor, and I seek to know nothing 
that should be reserved for the seal of confession. 
I have a divine warrant to stop you, which does 
not depend on such knowledge. You were warned 
by a message from heaven, delivered in my pres- 
ence — you were warned before marriage, when you 
might still have lawfully chosen to be free from 
the marriage-bond. But you chose the bond; and 
in willfully breaking it — I speak to you as a 
pagan, if the holy mystery of matrimony is not 
sacred to you — you are breaking a pledge. Of 
what wrongs will you complain, my daughter, when 
you yourself are committing one of the greatest 
wrongs a woman and a citizen can be guilty of — 
withdrawing in secrecy and disguise from a pledge 
which you have given in the face of God and your 
fellow-men? Of what wrongs will you complain, 
when you yourself are breaking the simplest law 
that lies at the foundation of the trust that binds 
man to man — faithfulness to the spoken word? ' 
• •••••• 

" Romola's mind was still torn by conflict. . . . 
At last she spoke, as if the words were being 
wrung from her, still looking on the ground. 

" ' My husband ... he is not . . . my love is 
gone ! ' 

" ' My daughter, there is the bond of a higher 
love. Marriage is not carnal only, made for selfish 

202 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

delight. See what that thought leads you to! It 
leads you to wander away in a false garb from 
all the obligations of your place and name. That 
would not have been if you had learned that it is 
a sacramental vow, from which none but God can 
release you. My daughter, your life is not as a 
grain of sand, to be blown by the winds; it is a 
thing of flesh and blood that dies if it be sun- 
dered. Your husband is not a malefactor? ' 

" Romola started. ' Heaven forbid ! No ; I ac- 
cuse him of nothing.' 

" ' I did not suppose he was a malefactor. I 
meant that if he were a malefactor, your place 
would be in the prison beside him. My daughter, 
if the cross comes to you as a wife, you must carry 
it as a wife. You may say, " I will forsake my 
husband," but you cannot cease to be a wife. 5 " 

These are strong words, and one wonders 
why George Eliot did not say to Mr. Lewes, 
*' You may forsake your wife, but you can- 
not cease to be a husband." Indeed, one of 
her critics, after quoting a part of this pas- 
sage, says that George Eliot's marriage was 
condemned by her own teaching so plainly 
as to cause doubt about how she could herself 
approve it. 

It will be noted, however, that Romola had 

203 



GEORGE ELIOT 

not yet learned of Tito's unfaithfulness to 
his marriage vow. He had proved false to 
Romola and her father by the shameless sale 
of old Bardi's library which he was in honor 
bound to preserve. But of Tessa and 
her children Romola as yet knew nothing. 
Neither was she aware at that time of the 
perfidy of Tito in first deserting, then rob- 
bing and denying, his own father. She re- 
turned to Florence at Savonarola's command. 
But the breach with Tito was too wide to be 
bridged by any sense of duty. At last there 
came a final understanding, and Romola 
spoke with terrible decision: 

" It is too late, Tito. There is no killing the 
suspicion that deceit has once begotten. And now 
I know everything. I know who that old man was : 
he was your father, to whom you owe everything, 
to whom you owe more than if you had been his 
own child. By the side of that it is a small thing 
that you broke my trust and my father's. As long 
as you deny the truth about that old man there 
is a horror rising between us ; the law that should 
make us one can never be obeyed. I too am a 
human being. I have a soul of my own that ab- 
hors your actions. Our union is a pretense — as 
if a perpetual lie could be a sacred marriage ! " 

204 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

A few days later Romola had again fled 
from Florence, " and this time no arresting 
voice had called her back." 

" The bonds of all strong affection were snapped. 
In her marriage, the highest bond of all, she had 
ceased to see the mystic union which is its own 
guarantee of indissolubleness, had ceased even to 
see the obligation of a voluntary pledge. Had she 
not proved that the things to which she had pledged 
herself were impossible? The impulse to set herself 
free had risen again with overmastering force ; yet 
the freedom could only be an exchange of calami- 
ties. There is no compensation for the woman who 
feels that the chief relation of her life has been 
no more than a mistake. She has lost her crown. 
The deepest secret of human blessedness has half 
whispered itself to her, and then forever passed 
her by." 

George Eliot's life was not a contradiction 
to this teaching. In pledging her faith to 
Mr. Lewes she felt that the vow was sacred 
and never to be broken. It could have been 
no more solemn had the promise been made 
before the altar of a church, in the presence 
of a clergyman and with all the ceremonies 
of both church and state. To her mind, Mr. 
Lewes was free because of the faithlessness 

205 



GEORGE ELIOT 

of his former wife, and she trusted implicitly 
his sincere reciprocation of her feeling as to 
the sanctity and inviolability of their mutual 
vows. The trustfulness of both was fully jus- 
tified by the event. No more perfect union 
than this, which lasted until the death of Mr. 
Lewes, could be desired. George Eliot ful- 
filled all the duties of a faithful wife. She 
became a loving mother to the three sons of 
Mr. Lewes, all of whom held her in the most 
affectionate esteem. Her whole life seemed 
to be bound up in the happiness and welfare 
of these four beings. Mr. Lewes was ever 
watchful and attentive to every need. Know- 
ing the extreme sensitiveness of his wife to 
anything like adverse criticism, he protected 
her from it, preventing many an unfriendly 
word from reaching her ears. He assumed, 
in spite of his own ill health, all the burdens 
of her business correspondence. Each was 
an intense admirer of the other. Although 
in many ways their opinions were not iden- 
tical, the mutual respect was so great that this 
made no difference. The life of each was 
greatly changed by the other, and in both 
cases the change was for the better. It 
seems to be fairly certain that but for the 

206 



GEORGE ELIOT AND MR. LEWES 

literary discernment of Mr. Lewes, who first 
discovered the true quality of her genius and 
his loving encouragement in protecting her 
from the blighting effects of adverse criticism, 
the world would never have known George 
Eliot as a novelist. She herself believed this 
to be true, and all the facts of her life seem 
to confirm it. 



207 



THE WOMANLINESS OF 
GEORGE ELIOT 



THE WOMANLINESS OF 
GEORGE ELIOT 

IE those who knew George Eliot most in- 
timately could come together and ex- 
change confidences, they would agree 
that, great as was her matchless genius, it 
was overshadowed by the true womanliness 
of her personality. From early childhood 
she yearned for love and sympathy. The 
" Brother and Sister " poem is a charming 
record of the affection she always felt for her 
brother Isaac. 



" His sorrow was my sorrow, and his joy 
Sent little leaps and laughs through all my frame ; 
My doll seemed lifeless and no girlish toy 
Had any reason when my brother came." 

A little later in life came a period of great 
happiness, to which George Eliot was always 
fond of recurring. This was the time from 
June, 1849, to March, 1850, spent in Geneva, 
Switzerland, with M. and Mme. D'Albert 

211 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Durade. In a letter to Mrs. Bray, written 
during this peaceful existence, she says: 

" I am in an atmosphere of love and refinement ; 
even the little servant Jeanne seems to love me and 
does me good every time she comes into the room. 
I can say anything to M. and Mme. D'Albert. 
M. D'A. understands everything, and if Madame 
does not understand, she believes — that is, she 
seems always sure that I mean something edify- 
ing. She kisses me like a mother, and I am baby 
enough to find that a great addition to my happi- 
ness. . . . My heart ties are not loosened by dis- 
tance; it is not in the nature of ties to be so; 
and when I think of my loved ones as those to 
whom I can be a comforter, a help, I long to be 
with them again. Otherwise I can only think with 
a shudder of returning to England. It looks to 
me like a land of gloom, 1 of ennui, of platitude; 
but in the midst of all this it is the land of duty 
and affection, and the only ardent hope I have for 
my future life is to have given to me some woman's 
duty — some possibility of devoting myself where 
I may see a daily result of pure calm blessedness 
in the life of another." 



i George Eliot's father had died only six months before. To re- 
lieve her sense of desolation, her friends the Brays took her with 
them on a trip to the Continent, leaving her in Geneva. 

212 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

The full realization of this hope came five 
years later. The marriage with Mr. Lewes 
brought to her the " calm blessedness in the 
life of another " which she so ardently de- 
sired. It also brought the " woman's duty " 
of caring for his children. All these boys — 
Charles, Thornton, and Herbert — were sent 
to school at Hofwvl. Thornton afterward 
went to Natal, Africa, but after six years 
returned broken in health and died in his 
twenty-sixth year. His foster-mother wrote, 
" This death seems to me the beginning of 
our own." Six years later came the news 
of the death of the youngest son, Herbert. 
Charles, the eldest, grew to manhood, mar- 
ried, and brought up a family, to whom 
George Eliot was devotedly attached. Her 
letters to Charles and to his children reveal 
the deep love in her heart for them. 

To Charles she wrote, when he was still a 
lad: 

" I look forward to playing duets with you as 
one of my future pleasures: and if I am able to 
go on working, I hope we shall afford to have a 
fine grand piano. I have none of Mozart's sym- 
phonies, so you can be guided in your choice of 
them entirely by your own taste. I know Beetho- 

213 



GEORGE ELIOT 

ven's Sonata in B flat well; it is a very charming 
one, and I shall like to hear you play it. That 
is one of my luxuries — to sit still and hear some 
one playing my favorite music; so that you may 
be sure you will find willing ears to listen to the 
fruits of your industrious practicing. 

" There are ladies in the world, not a few, who 
play the violin, and I wish I were one of them, for 
then we could play together sonatas for the piano 
and violin, which make a charming combination. 
The violin gives that keen edge of tone which the 
piano wants. 

" I like to know that you were gratified by get- 
ting a watch so much sooner than you expected; 
and it was the greater satisfaction to me to send 
it you, because you had earned it by making good 
use of these precious years at Hofwyl. It is a 
great comfort to your father and me to think of 
that, for we, with our old grave heads, can't help 
talking very often of the need our boys will have 
for all sorts of good qualities and habits in making 
their way through this difficult life." . . . 

When Charles became engaged, Mrs. 
Lewes wrote to Miss Hennell: 'Our 'boy/ 
Charles, has just become engaged, and it is 
very pretty to see the happiness of a pure 
first love, full at present of nothing but 
promise." 

214 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

Perhaps the most delightful of all the 
pleasant letters of the great novelist, who 
was one of the most charming of correspond- 
ents, is the following pretty one to the little 
daughter of Charles Lewes, aged four: 

My bear little Maudie, — I was very glad to 
have a letter from you this morning. I read it 
aloud to grandpapa before breakfast. The sun 
was shining, the birds were singing, and Maudie 
was talking to us in her letter. We were very 
happy. I will kiss baby for you. Her cheeks are 
pink, and she looks stronger than she did when 
she first came down. All the servants are fond of 
her and very good to her. She tries to say a few 
words, but the only word she is clever in is " Papa." 
There are a great many tall trees all round us, 
and sometimes there are squirrels with bushy tails 
running up them so fast that you could hardly 
catch sight of them. There are little snakes in the 
cucumber bed. They like to be there because it 
keeps them warm. Last year there were a great 
many moles, which are little black creatures with 
tiny white hands, and with these hands they scratch 
themselves holes for a long way under the ground, 
and throw out the earth in little hills above them. 
That spoils the grass, but the moles do not mean 
to be naughty. They are only working very hard 
to make themselves houses. 

215 



GEORGE ELIOT 

Grandpapa is better than he was, and has not 
so many pains in his poor toes. You never had 
any pains in your toes, Maudie. I know you are 
very sorry that grandpapa should have pains. He 
sends his love and kisses to you and Blanche, and 
so do I. And you must kiss papa and mamma for 
us, and tell them that we long very much to hear 
that you are all quite settled in Elm Cottage. 
When we see you again you will be taller than 
you were when we said " good-by " to you at 
Hampstead. For little girls grow as the flowers 
do, and get taller and taller, and their faces a little 
larger. But grandpapa and grandmamma would 
know you were their little Maudie if they met you 
quite alone in the street without mamma, and they 
would want you to come with them, and they would 
take care of you. They would know you because 
your little nose and mouth and eyes and your hair 
are not just exactly like other little girls', and still 
more because they would remember how you say 
" Grandpapa." I have written this letter quite 
plainly, as if I thought you could read it. But 
I know you are not able to read it yet. Miss 
Smith will be so good as to read it to you. Now 
good-by, my dear Maudie. Here are all the kisses 
you are to give, Mamma, * *, Papa, * *, Blanche, 
* *, and these * * you must keep for yourself. 
Your loving 

Grandmamma. 
216 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

The beautiful simplicity of this letter, 
perfectly adapted to its young recipient, re- 
minds one of the surprise of the inhabitants 
of Shottermill, in Surrey, where George 
Eliot went for a summer of seclusion while 
writing " Middlemarch." They frequently 
found her at a picturesque old farm, where 
she was fond of visiting the farmer's wife. 
Here, " sitting on a grassy bank just beside 
the kitchen door, she would discuss the 
growth of fruit and the quality of butter in 
a manner so quiet and simple the good coun- 
try folks were astonished, expecting very dif- 
ferent conversation from the great novelist." * 

In the autumn of 1863 Mr. and Mrs. Lewes 
took a house near Regent's Park, in what 
was then a quiet and beautiful suburb of 
London. It was a plain, two-story dwelling 
of no particular pretensions, but nevertheless 
attractive for its air of refined simplicity. In 
the drawing-room with its modest furniture, 
brightened by the rays of sunshine transfused 
through the fragrant flowers in the window, 
and pleasing to the eye because of its perfect 
harmony of color, were held those Sunday 

1 From the "Borderland of Surrey," by Alice Maude Fenn, in 
the "Century Magazine," 1882. 

217 



GEORGE ELIOT 

afternoon receptions which made "the Pri- 
ory " famous. For many years they were 
the fashion in London and the rooms were 
well filled with the most celebrated people 
of the great city, to name whom would be 
like calling the roll of the scientists, philoso- 
phers, painters, poets, sculptors, and critics 
then most famous in London. But these 
affairs were more than periodical gatherings 
of the social lions of the day. Younger men 
and women were generously welcomed. Both 
host and hostess took this opportunity to ex- 
tend a helping hand to many a young per- 
son in whom they saw the promise of future 
excellence in science or literature. Of the 
many men and women who frequented these 
popular receptions, it is said that a large 
proportion came not so much to breathe the 
atmosphere of culture and intellectual power 
as to feel the charm of Mrs. Lewes's pres- 
ence, the gentleness and grace of her true 
womanliness. Mr. F. W. H. Myers says: 

" Mrs. Lewes's manner had a grave simplicity, 
which rose in closer converse into an almost pathetic 
anxiety to give of her best — to establish a genuine 
human relation between herself and her interlocutor 

218 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

— to utter words which should remain as an active 
influence for good in the hearts of those who heard 
them." 

One of those whose good fortune it was 
to meet George Eliot in this home of refine- 
ment was the brilliant and distinguished wife 
of Dr. Henry M. Field. In her charming 
house at Stockbridge, Mass., as well as in 
New York City, Mrs. Field was in the habit 
of entertaining the most brilliant representa- 
tives of philanthropy, art, literature, and re- 
ligion who could be assembled in America. 
In the grace and charm of her hospitality, 
the richness and originality of her conversa- 
tion, her extensive learning, her sympathy for 
others, and her earnestness of purpose, she 
was not unlike George Eliot herself. It is 
fortunate that we have the report of such a 
woman, who, after a brief visit of an hour or 
two, left the presence of the famous novelist 
with the feeling that what impressed one the 
most was not her intellectual greatness but 
her womanliness: 



u 



Superior as she is to the thousands of her sex, 
she is still one of them, with a nature thoroughly 
feminine. Though she has thought and written on 

219 



GEORGE ELIOT 



subjects which require a masculine understanding, 
on social questions and political reforms ; though 
she had read and translated books of philosophy, 
and is accustomed to the society of men who are 
occupied with scientific studies, — still in her heart 
she remains the true woman; and to lift up her 
sisterhood is her highest ambition." 

Referring to their brief interview, Mrs. 
Field says: 

" She received us very kindly. In seeing for the 
first time one to whom we owed so many happy 
hours, it was impossible to feel towards her as a 
stranger. All distance was removed by her cour- 
tesy. Her manners are very sweet, because very 
simple, and free from affectation. To me her wel- 
come was the more grateful as that of one woman 
to another. There is a sort of free-masonry among 
women, by which they understand at once those 
with whom they have any intellectual sympathy. 
A few words, and all reserve was gone. 6 Come, 
sit by me on this sofa,' she said; and instantly, 
seated side by side, we were deep in conversation. 
It is in such intimacy one feels the magnetism of 
a large mind informed by a true woman's heart; 
then, as the soul shines through the face, one per- 
ceives its intellectual beauty. No portrait can give 
the full expression of the eye any more than of the 

220 



. 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

voice. Looking into that clear, calm eye, one sees 
a transparent nature, a soul of goodness and truth, 
an impression which is deepened as you listen to 
her soft and gentle tones. A low voice is said to 
be an excellent thing in woman. It is a special 
charm of the most finely cultured English ladies. 
But never did a sweeter voice fascinate a listener, 

— so soft and low that one must almost bend to 
hear. . . . But I should do her great injustice if 
I gave the impression that there was in her con- 
versation any attempt at display. There is no 
wish to ' shine.' She is above that affectation of 
brilliancy which is often mere flippancy. Nor does 
she seek to attract homage and admiration. On 
the contrary, she is very averse to speak of her- 
self, or even to hear the heartfelt praise of others. 
She does not engross the conversation, but is more 
eager to listen than to talk. She has that delicate 
tact — which is one of the fine arts among women 

— to make others talk, suggesting topics the most 
rich and fruitful, and by a word drawing the con- 
versation into a channel where it may flow with 
a broad, free current. Thus she makes you forget 
the celebrated author, and think only of the re- 
fined and highly cultivated woman. You do not 
feel awed by her genius, but only quickened by it, 
as something that calls out all that is better and 
truer. While there is no attempt to impress you 
with her intellectual superiority, you feel naturally 

221 



GEORGE ELIOT 

elevated into a higher sphere. The conversation 
of itself floats upward into a region above the 
commonplace. The small talk of ordinary society 
would seem an impertinence. There is a singular 
earnestness about her, as if those mild eyes looked 
deep into the great, sad, awful truths of existence. 
To her life is a serious reality, and the gift of 
genius a grave responsibility." 

It was the constant care of George Eliot 
that her influence upon the young should 
prove beneficial. In a letter to Miss Wel- 
lington, of Brooklyn, this thought finds 
expression: 

" The signs of your sympathy sent to me across 
the wide water have touched me with the more 
effect because you imply that you are young. I 
care supremely that my writing should be some 
help and stimulus to those who have probably a 
long life before them." 

Another letter, written in the same year 
(1873), also to an American correspondent, 
has much the same thought: 

" I am much interested in all you tell me about 
your youthful companions. You understand that 
I necessarily care most about the impression my 

222 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

books make on the young. Mr. Lewes has been 
wont to say that neither the very young nor the 
ignorant could care about my writing — that its 
significance must escape them, and that the aspects 
of life which it presents would not interest them. 
As to the ignorant, I should think that this judg- 
ment must be true; but facts seem to be contra- 
dicting it in relation to the young, and this makes 
me glad-" 

" In her personal bearing," says Mr. Cross, 
" George Eliot was seldom moved by the 
hurry which mars all dignity in action. Her 
commanding brows and deep penetrating 
eyes were seconded by the sweet, restrained, 
impressive speech, which claimed something 
like an awed attention from strangers. But 
to those very near to her there was another 
side of her nature, scarcely suspected by 
outside friends and acquaintances. No one 
could be more capable of enjoying and of 
communicating genuine, loving, hearty, un- 
controllable laughter. It was a deep-seated 
wish, expressed in the poem of ' Agatha ' — 
1 1 would have young things merry/ " 

It has been commonly remarked that 
George Eliot's was a masculine mind — a 
thought no doubt suggested by some of her 

223 



GEORGE ELIOT 

portraits, even to those who have not made 
a close study of her mental characteristics. 
Herbert Spencer thought her the most ad- 
mirable woman, mentally, he had ever met, 
and Spencer's test would most likely be 
strongly masculine. He said: "Her philo- 
sophical powers were remarkable. I have 
known but few men with whom I would dis- 
cuss a question in philosophy with more sat- 
isfaction. Capacity for abstract thinking is 
rarely found along with capacity for con- 
crete representation, even in men ; and among 
women such a union of the two as existed in 
her has, I should think, never been paral- 
leled." On the other hand, we have Mr. 
Cross's authority for the statement that " it 
was one of the most distinctly marked traits 
in her character, that she particularly dis- 
liked everything generally associated with 
the idea of a ' masculine woman. 5 She was, 
and as a woman she wished to be, above all 
things feminine — ' so delicate with her needle 
and an admirable musician.' She was proud 
too of being an excellent housekeeper — an 
excellence attained from knowing how things 
ought to be done, from her early training, 
and from an inborn habit of extreme order- 

224 



THE WOMANLINESS OP GEORGE ELIOT 

liness. Nothing offended her more than the 
idea that because a woman had exceptional 
powers, therefore it was right that she should 
absolve herself, or be absolved, from her or- 
dinary household duties." 

Had it not been for this marked woman- 
liness in her nature, it seems certain that 
Dorothea Brooke, Maggie Tulliver, and 
Esther Lyon never could have been created, 
for she put much of herself into all three. 

It was characteristic of the life of George 
Eliot, as it was of her novels, that she could 
realize the pathos and grandeur of ordinary 
humanity better than most people. It was 
more to her that Adam Bede and Dinah 
Morris could be noble, cheerful, and unself- 
ish, amid the narrow limits of their restricted 
lives, than that high-born personages should 
accomplish remarkable deeds. These lives 
of patient toil and faithfulness to the duties 
of every day appealed to her sympathies. In 
only one of her productions * are the charac- 
ters drawn entirely from aristocratic circles. 
Edward Dowden places her " among artists 
who with Shakespeare unite breadth of sym- 
pathy with power of interpreting the rarer 

'"Mr. Gilfil's Love Story. " 

225 



GEORGE ELIOT 

and more intense experiences of the souls of 
men." If she possessed anything like the 
genius of Shakespeare, it was genius dwell- 
ing in the heart of a woman deeply possessed 
of the desire to be one of those 

" Who live again 
In minds made better by their presence: live 
In pulses stirred to generosity, 
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 
For miserable aims that end with self, 
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 
And with their mild persistence urge man's search 
To vaster issues." 

This was the essence of George Eliot's re- 
ligion. Mr. Cross confesses his inability to 
ascertain, " either from her books or from the 
closest personal intimacy, what her exact re- 
lation was to any existing religious creed." 
Yet, he continues, " George Eliot's was em- 
phatically a religious mind. My own impres- 
sion is that her whole soul was so imbued 
with, and her imagination was so fired by, the 
scientific spirit of the age — by the constant 
rapid development of ideas in the Western 
world — that she could not conceive that there 
was, as yet, any religious formula sufficient 

226 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

nor any known political system likely to be 
final." 

Very early in life Mary Ann Evans came 
under the influence of evangelical teachings, 
and when she went to school at Coventry she 
adopted the religious views of the Baptists 
with great enthusiasm. Her teachers there 
were the daughters of the Rev. Francis 
Franklin, a preacher who must have been a 
man of some ability, for he held one pastor- 
ate for fifty-two years. She became at once 
one of the foremost pupils in the school and 
was relied upon to lead the prayer meetings, 
which were no doubt frequently held. The 
philosophical studies of later years, and the 
association with Mr. and Mrs. Bray and 
Miss Hennell, her Coventry friends, changed 
this enthusiasm into doubt. But it was a 
doubt which still left sincere esteem for 
and sympathy with those who could be- 
lieve — a feeling amounting almost to pain- 
ful regret that her own intellectual proc- 
esses forbade her the enjoyment of a similar 
happiness. 

So greatly did she value the serene calm 
that comes to those who have an abiding 
faith in God that she never allowed her 

227 



GEORGE ELIOT 

skepticism to enter into her novels. Her 
anxiety that no beautiful conception of the 
Deity should be disturbed by materialistic 
reflections, particularly in immature minds, 
is beautifully exemplified in a letter to Miss 
Hennell : 

" I imagine the sorrowful image of a child who 
had been dwelling with delight on the idea that the 
stars were the pavement of heaven's court, and that 
there above them sat the kind but holy God, look- 
ing like a venerable Father who would smile on his 
little ones — when it was cruelly told, before its 
mind had substance enough to bear such tension, 
that the sky was not real, that the stars were 
worlds, and that even the sun could not be God's 
dwelling, because there were many, many suns. 
These ideas would introduce atheism into the child's 
mind, instead of assisting it to form a nobler con- 
ception of God (of course I am supposing the 
bare information given, and left to the child to 
work upon) ; whereas the idea it previously had 
of God was perfectly adapted to its intellectual con- 
dition, and formed to the child as perfect an em- 
bodiment of the all-good, all-wise, and all-powerful 
as the most enlightened philosopher ever formed to 
himself." 

Maggie Tulliver comes to find out that the 
three best books for her are the Bible, the 

228 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

" Christian Year," and the " Imitation of 
Christ." George Eliot valued all these. Mr. 
Cross says: 

" We generally began our reading at Witley with 
some chapters of the Bible, which was a very pre- 
cious and sacred book to her, not only from early 
association, but also from the profound conviction 
of its importance in the development of the reli- 
gious life of man. She particularly enjoyed read- 
ing aloud some of the finest chapters of Isaiah, 
Jeremiah, and St. Paul's Epistles. With a natu- 
rally rich, deep voice, rendered completely flexible 
by constant practice; with the keenest perception 
of the requirements of emphasis ; and with the 
most subtle modulations of tone, her reading threw 
a glamour over indifferent writing, and gave to 
the greatest writing fresh meanings and beauty." 

George Eliot's religion was of a kind as 
commonly accepted now as it was incom- 
prehensible in her day. Dr. Lyman Abbott 
has defined religion as " the life of God in 
the soul of man." George Eliot looked so 
steadily into the souls of men that she per- 
ceived this life of God, though she did not 
so proclaim it. Her religion was the service 
of mankirfcL 

229 



GEORGE ELIOT 

On a bleak day in December, 1880, George 
Eliot was laid to rest in Highgate Ceme- 
tery. The funeral sermon was preached by 
the Rev. Dr. Sadler, and was a loving trib- 
ute to the qualities which all her friends so 
much admired: 



" Whither shall we turn for works of the same 
kind, so rich in thoughts for the thinker to ponder 
in his study, the divine to quote from in the pulpit, 
and the devout worshiper to take with him to his 
chamber as a stimulus and a help to his devotions? 
. . . She is ' one of the few, the immortal names 
that were not born to die. 5 . . . To those who are 
present it is given to think of the gentleness and 
delicate womanly grace and charm which were en- 
shrined with that breadth of culture and univer- 
sality of power which have made her known to all 
the world. To those who are present is given to 
know the diffidence and self-distrust which, not- 
withstanding all her public fame, needed individual 
sympathy and encouragement to prevent her from 
feeling too keenly how far the results of her labors 
fell below the standard she had set before her. To 
those who are present too it may be given — though 
there is so large a number to whom it is not given 
— to understand how a nature may be profoundly 
devout and yet unable to accept a great deal of 
what is usually held as religious belief. No intel- 

230 



THE WOMANLINESS OF GEORGE ELIOT 

lectual difficulties or uncertainties, no sense of men- 
tal incapacity to climb the heights of infinitude, 
could take from her the piety of the affections or 
beliefs which were the mother tongue of her soul! 

" How patiently she toiled to render her work 
in all its details as little imperfect as might be! 
How green she kept the remembrance of all those 
companions to whom she felt that she owed a mold- 
ing and elevating influence, especially in her old 
home and of him who was its head, her father! 
How her heart glowed with a desire to make a 
heaven on earth, to be a ' cup of strength ' to 
others, and when her own days on earth should 
have closed, to have a place among those 

6 Immortal dead who still live on 
In minds made better by their presence ' ! " 



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